Movit Amphion lapides canendo THE NEW. 7.? 7 2^ Being the Book of. the ILdinburgh Univerfity Union Fancy Fair, in which

Transcription

1 Movit Amphion lapides canendo THE NEW AMPHION 7.? 7 2^ Being the Book of the ILdinburgh Univerfity Union Fancy Fair, in which are contained fundry artiftick, inftruftive, and diverting matters, all now made putlickfor thefirft time. n EDINBURGH Imprinted at the Univerfity Prefs by T. y A. Conjlable, Printers to HerMajeftythe Queen

2 The Preface to the Kindly Rea der defcribing the occafion of this Book. HREE years ago, the Stu dents of Ed inburgh refolved to eftablifh a Union. Their aim was to create for themfelves a College life fuch as the Students of Tberefolve of the Students. Their aim.

3 To the Reader. of other countries have always valued as the moft precious among academic traditions, and to reftore to the great Univerfity of Edinburgh fomething of the common fellowfhip which was fhared by the Students of 300 years ago under the roof of the old Town's College. But the buildings of the new Univerfity, unlike thofe of the old College, have no place for aught but lecture-rooms and labora tories ; and fo the firft ftep

4 To the Reader. ftep was to build a Stu dents' Houfe. The Tercentenary Fefti- "val in 1884 was an aufpicious moment for putting forth an effort to compafs this defire; and, accordingty) the newly conftituted Students' Reprefentative Council appealed to the friends of the Univerfity for help. Their refponfe was loyal. A Committee was formed, with the Chancellor at its head, to aid the Students. For two years this Com mittee An occao/ereth; and is taken.

5 To the Reader. mittee has laboured ; but during that time it has loft the help of two to whom the Union will owe much an illuftrious and be loved Principal, and a Lord Provqft of the City who excelled even the traditions of his office in devotion to the College and the interefts of its Students. Much ftill remained to be done when the Fancy Fair, which is the occafion of this book, was under taken. The Committee had

6 To the Reader. had done little more than clear the foundations; and they fighed for a new AMPHION fuch as he who raifed the walls of Thebes by the mufic of his lyre. Following a daffic precedent, they have turned for help to To the the ladies of Scotland. fair laa And juft as the ancient Athenians, in time of ftrefs, were helped by their women to build the city walls, fo the Students of Edinburgh will be beholden for their Union

7 The To the Reader. Union to the labour of countlefs fair hands which placed ftone on ftone. To thofe who fo generoufly have fent gifts of ftory and of fong, as well as to the artifts who have given of their handiwork, we tender now the thanks of future members of the Union. ROBT- FITZROY BELL, JAMES AVON CLYDE, Joint Honorary Secretaria of the Edinburgh Univirjity Union Committee. EDINBURGH, ST. ANDREW'S DAY, 1886.

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10 \jkas^ksy*s3^\s^vj!k/\]sl^vs^\fk/\s^\jkmjs** The Contents. Spring Song, By Robtrt Browning. Page May Song, 2 Join Stuart Blackie. The Dog, 5 Andrew Lang. A Chriflmas Carol, Sir Noei Paton. i zo A Greek Gem, 26 A. S. Murray. In Thule, 36 David J. MacKenzie. Mimnerraus

11 xii The Contents. Page Mimnermus, 38 David J. MacKenzie. An Anxious Moment, 39 Mrs. Oliphant. Burns, 99 John Stuart Blackie. To a Fair Lady, 101 John Stuart Blackie. Drefs, John Stuart Blackie. 103 The Scotch Student's Dream, 105 J. M. Barrie. A Fair Bargain, George MacDonald. The Philofopher and the Butterflies, Richard Garnett. Selkirk and the Yarrow, 137 Alexander Anderfon. From

12 The Contents. xiii Page From Yarrow to Edinburgh College, 141 Alimn Hay Dunlop. Carlyle, John Stuart Blackie. Youth, Walter Smith. After Parting, 217 G. B. B.. 'Bows,' 218 D. e College Memories, 221 Robert Louis Steven/on. Illuftrations

13 Illuftrations. A Head, John Pettie, R.A. My Heart's Bedfellows, Elizabeth Gulland. Page In May Time, 4 W. D. M'Kay, R.S.A. A Skye Terrier, 8 Gourlay Steeli, R.S.A. Taking liberties with the Prefs. 16 David Gourlay ^/^//.A.R.S.A. A Greek Gem, 28 Sun- Engraving, In x I

14 Illuftrations. xv Page In Thule, 34 Patrick W. Adam, A.R.S.A. I \ A Propofal, John R. Reid. The Philofopher and the Butterflies, 121 Robert Gibb, R.S.A. The Philofopher drenched, 136 Keeley Halfwelle. A.R.S.A, In Yarrow, 14.0 John MacWhirttr, A.R.A. The Town's College in 1810, 184 Sydney Mitchell. Carlyle, 214 William Hole, A.R.S.A. After parting, 217 William Hole, A.R.S.A. Profeffor

15 xvi Illujtrations. Page Profeflbr Kelland, 236 William Hole, A.R.S.A. Night in her bofom bare the holy Sleep, 240 Rotfrt Herdman, R.S.A.

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18 SPRING SONG. i, yellows and whites and reds! Lead your gay orgy, leaves, ftalks, heads, Aftir with the wind in the tulip-beds! There's funfhine : fcarcely a wind at all Difturbs ftarved grafs and daifies fmall On a certain mound by a churchyard wall. Daifies and grafs be my heart's bed fellows On the mound wind fparcs and funfhine mellows Dance you, reds and whites and yellows! ROBBRT BROWNING.

19 MAY-SONG. C^OME, deareft, 'tis fin to be mourning ^ to-day, In the feail of the Spring and the lufty May. The hour of fharp forrow a faithful heart fhareth, But joy is the every-day face that life weareth ; Give a tear to the paft, but deny it the power To drag like a chain on the march of the hour ; Let thy heart beat with pulfe of glad welcome to-day In the feaft of the Spring and the lufty May. Come,

20 May-Song. Come, drink the frefh breezes ; no more you will find The bluftering north, and the biting eafl wind. The land is green, and the hedge is fprouting, The merry angler is gone a-trouting. Come, brufh the brown brae, come track the bright ftream, Wam forrow away in the fun's blithe beam, Nor let thy leal heart be a traitor to-day In the feaft of the Spring and the lufty May! The loch is full, and the river is ftrong, The burnie comes merrily trotting along ; With cowflip and primrofe the bank is blooming, The growth of the foreft the breeze is perfuming ; The

21 May- Song. The far blue hills wear patches of fnow, Where the ftar-eyed flowret peeps up from below ; The birds are lilting their light love-lay For the feaft of the Spring and the lufty May! I'll weave thee a wreath of anemone white, The type of thy beauty, fo graceful and light, The type of the virtues I prize from thy teaching, To glow without glare, and perfuade without preaching, I'll fhow thee the buds from the low wood burft. And tell how thefe taught me to love thee firft ; For life is reborn and exultant to-day, And fadnefs is fin in the feaft of the May! JOHN STUART BLACKIE. Xatpere ir&vtott. PACIUS.

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24 THE DOG: MEANT to call this paper ' Other men's Dogs,' by way of faving a fhred of my own charafter, and pre tending that I merely hate le Men ifautrui. But truth is too ftrong for me, and I frankly admit that I deleft the whole race of hounds, odora tanum vis, as the Roman poet very juftly ftyles them. In this matter I am with the Prophet whom the fanaticifm of our fathers called Mahound very inappropriately. The poor The Au thor explaineth :

25 6 The Dog. I poor Indian may deem what \ he pleafes about his ' equal! fty,' but neither Skyes nor any! other curs will be admitted into the Paradife of Mahomet. the fecret \ Perhaps I might be more of his lack, tolerant of dogs if they were oftoler- not in a confpiracy to deftroy ance. and blaft my charafter. ' Diftruft,' fays Mr. Tupper, or Mr. Edwin Arnold, or fome other Eaftern fage, 'the man who is difliked by dogs.' I am that man, and probably am therefore diftrufted. I am not confcious to myfelf of a difpofition more than ufually treacherous ; but it is a fact that dogs think they have found me out. They don't care for me. They don't wag their tails at me when I fay, ' Poor old fellow, then! ' as I am afhamed to

26 The Dog. to confefs I fometimes do. I They force me into a cringing conciliatory attitude make me wag my tail as it were to gain their goodwill, and then they don't give it me. There is no reciprocity here. Their be haviour naturally caufes me to be regarded in fociety, which goes about with dogs much, as a fufpicious cuftomer. If dogs i Of dogs really are 'the beft judges of asjudges charafter,' I tremble to think of the what mine muft be. No one i charafter. who is thus fet at naught can i be expefted to be fond of the i i canine race. If 'Love me, love my dog ' be a truthful proverb, then, like the Dutchman defended by the biogra pher of Mrs. Aphra Behn, I am incapable of the tender and gallant paffion. I don't love

27 'The Dog. \ love any lady's dog, and if, in the Euclid of the affeftions, ' he who is unequal to loving a dog, is unequal to loving its miftrefs,' I am an out-caft from the hearts of the beft and faireft portions of our fallen race. Fortunately, they don't all like dogs. The au- I have not fuccumbed withthor hath out a ftruggle to hatred of the ftriven to dog. He prayeth beft who loveth beft All things both great and fmall, and I once made an effort to love a dog, or at leaft to keep one. I thought it beft and wifeft to begin with a very little one, a toy terrier, black and tan. There was fo little of him that I thought the pro hibition againft keeping dogs in college hardly applied. I wore

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30 The Dog. wore him as a kind of button hole in the breaft of my coat, his head peeping out, and I believe the Warden, who was fhort-fighted, thought he was a gardenia. He didn't fmell at all like a rare exotic, how ever. Goodnefs knows that I ftruggled hard to love that dog, but love is like faith, and refufes to be forced. He was a nervous little brute (Gelert, I called him), and would not fleep anywhere except on my bed, being afraid, I believe, of ghofts. Finally but with I gave him away, and his end out fucis ' wrop up ' like the ' buths ' eefs. of James Yellowplufh, in a ' miftry.' My later relations with dogs His later have been alien and hoftile. relations They ' come between me and to dogs. the

31 10 The Dog. Anecdote ofthe cele brated Sir W. Scott. the fkies,' like Oriana, or at leaft they interfere with my pureft affeftions. My deareft friends, my neareft kindred, have been men and women who kept dogs, and who, there fore, have been eftranged from me. Dogs are the tomb of affeftions : I have had playmates, I have had companions ; All have been the prey of dandies and fox-terriers All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. Take the example of one of the very beft of men, Sir Walter Scott. Once he was expefted to dine with a friend ; doubtlefs ' the oldeft lamp was lit ' (though why age in a lamp mould be a proof of excellence I can't imagine), doubtlefs the beft

32 The Dog. 1 1 beft wine was drawn, and many good men and fair women were expefting to enjoy the fociety of Sir Walter. He never arrived, but he fent a meflage to fay that he had loft a friend by death, and could not come. The friend was a bull-terrier named Camp, and for this he difappointed mere human beings. The abfurd but edifying part of the ftory is, that Scott has been praifed for this conduft, which mows how deeply dogs have demoralifed the human heart, and ruined all honourable inftinfts. This is merely one illuftration out of myriads. Who has not fuffered thus? I take a walk with a friend, a poet, philofopher, and fportfman, and we are deep in a difcuflion about

33 r 2 The Dog. about profody, or the Infinite, or Lohmann's bowling, when fuddenly he becomes inatten tive and diftraught. Then he flops, whittles, fhouts, and difplays all the fymptoms of derangement. He has loft his dog! The brute, fo famous for its fidelity, has deferted him, led away by love, or war, or the paffion of the chafe. As to the manifold and unfpeakable annoyances caufed by Aphrodite, when me fways the hearts of hounds, it were too painful to fpeak in detail. ' Happy is he who knows them not.' Dogs (like mufic) are the bane of converfation. Does any man like to fee young ladies making an idol of a decrepit fox-terrier, and fetting the brute on a pedeftal too

34 13 too high, in my opinion, even for a baby? The felf-confcioufnefs and Touching vanity of dogs might difguft the vanity even a minor poet. I have of dogs. known a collie certainly a very handfome collie pafs his days in contemplating his own image in a glafs. I know a Dandle which aftually makes eyes, being confcious that he pofiefles thefe organs very large, brown, and decorative. Who has not feen a dog Of their morally corrupt a family? malign /;/- reducing them to the flaves fuence on of his impulfes. Tip wants thefamily. to take a walk ; Tip wants to go out of the door ; then he wants to come in again ; then he appears at the window and fcratches ; then he fancies the moft comfortable arm-chair, and

35 The Dog. and oufts a jaded and middleaged man of letters. I am acquainted with a dog fo eager for excitement and difplay, that he roams from room to room, making every one open the door for him till he finds what he confiders the beft fociety in the houfe. Then he fits down on the fender, and ufes the moft mocking and abrupt language when any one treads on his toes, which, of courfe, frequently occurs. His yells refemble a railway fteam whiftle carried to the higheft power. Of courfe he expefts all the legs of groufe, and whatever elfe is going, and he whines and yelps till he gets what he wants. There is not one of the feven deadly fins of which

36 The Dog. this dog is not habitually guilty, and I am unaware of a (ingle redeeming feature in his repulfive charafter. Yet he is adored by the people he owns, with an affeftion which they do not beftow on one whom I confider eminently more deferving. It will be faid by the friends The auof the dog, that this pifture \thor meetis drawn in too gloomy ]tth the colours. If I could, like charge of Shelley, dip my pencil in \exaggerathe gloom of earthquake and tion. eclipfe, I mould confider thefe highly fuitable vehicles for a ftudy of the unclean animal. I mall be told that The true he has redeeming features ; charafler that he is 'faithful,' for ex- of the dog ample. Well, he knows when cxfofed. he is well off, but the 'fidelity'

37 1 6 The Dog. is really all on the fide of pool defpifed Man. It needs i great deal of fidelity in Man to cling as he does tc the dog, licking, as it were, the paw (the muddy paw] which tramples him. Ther he is 'brave.' Try a doj with a ghoft, or anything which, in his degrading fuper ftition he takes for a ghoft and fee him howl in an ecftaf] of terror. Why, one ha known dogs to die of a ghoft which merely turned a man' hair white, or perhaps did no even affeft him fo much a that. They tell us of Gelert Llewellyn's hound, which wa thought fo much of for killinj the ferpent (it mould be ferpent, but the corrupt myti says a wolf) inftead of bitin\ th

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40 The Dog. 1 7 the baby. But, in the firft place, the condudl of Llewellyn himfelf, who knew the brute, fhows what he thought the dog capable of: ' Hell-hound, by thee my child 's devoured,' The frantic father cried, with very natural impatience, and, as we know, he afted on his firft impulfe. Now ' firft impulfes are generally good,' and I would be the laft to blame Llewellyn. But every one fhould know that the whole ftory, out of which fo much capital has been made for the dog, is a Hindoo myth. It was originally told befide the ftiores of Indus, not about a dog at all, but about a Mongoose. fer- meat and drink to them ; Now Mongeefe do kill pents it is

41 The Dog. \ \ them ; but I never heard of a dog that tackled cobras, even fuppofing cobras to flourifh in Wales, which is abfurd. The wolf is a more plausible inter pretation. So much for Gelert. The other legendary animals, the St. Bernard dogs, and the. dog of Montargis, I difmifs as fabulous. No exten- Any circumftances of a uating tir- palliatory and extenuating cumftancei \ charafter which affeft the can be dog, would here be mentioned, pleaded if I could think of them. for dogs, j Ouida is fond of dogs, and I Lord Byron preferred their virtues to thofe of his fellowmen. But was Lord Byron, my brethren, a judge of virtue? As to the conduft of dogs at night, when they bay the moon, and keep men and women

42 The Dog. women awake, I could write feveral chapters of a comminatory charadler. But per haps to have murdered fleep, like Macbeth, is one of the minor defedls of the flattered, pampered, and overrated hound, whom fo many perfons worfhip with all the blind credulity of the Dog tribe of Indians. ANDREW LANG. i"

43 TT was the Chriftmas Eve ; The homelefs wind did grieve Around the defolate moorland, blind with fnow ; When at my wattle door Shelter how frail and poor! I heard the found ofweeping very low; And peering forth into the wild And dreary night lo! on the threfhold flood a child. u. 1 CHRISTMAS CAROL.

44 A Chriftmas Carol. ^ \ ii. His tiny feet were bare, The fnow was in his hair, The fnowwas on his fluttering raggednefs. ' Pity a little one Out in the ftorm alone,' He feebly murmured in his fore diftrefs. Within my arms I gathered him, And bore with foothing words into my chamber dim. in. And as I bore him in, There came the filvery din Of bells, far-chiming through the fitful blore, And from his pallid brow A fweet light feemed to flow, And from his tattered garment wintry frore ; While from hiseyes a look there came Of love, that thrilled like fire through all my trembling frame.

45 22 A Chrijimas Carol. IV. I laid him on my bed, And water brought and bread The laftfcant remnant ofmy hermit fare, Whereof he took, and flept ; While by his fide I kept Dark vigil, all my fpirit bowed in prayer, Towards the dawning of the morn Whereon our blefled Lord and Saviour, Chrift, was born. v. But, hungred and a-cold, Ere half my beads were told The gentle boon of fleep to me was given ; And in a folemn dream I faw the wondrous gleam Of that ftrange ftar high in the Eaftern heaven, That led the Magi on their way, What time the King of Kings within the manger lay. VI.

46 A Chrijlmas Carol. 23 I law the Angel throng, Heard too the Heavenly fong Befide the fhepherds in the fields by night, And eager ran with them To where in Bethlehem We found the Holy Babe in fwaddlings white ; And, kneeling in the facred place, I faw and wept to fee in His my wanderer's face! VII. But they were tears of blifs, And bending low to kifs In loving awe the rofy-tender feet The vifion pafled ; and ftrange! What means this myftic change On all that doth my rapt obfervance meet? A blazing Yule-log on the hearth Fills my late darkfome cell with light and warmth and mirth!

47 24 -A Chriftmas Carol. VIII. Upon my table bare A golden chalice fair Shone brimmed with wine ; a golden paten held Bread broken ; a pale Rood Befide them fhadowy ftood ; And from the piteous wounds the warm blood welled... I turned to roufe my fleeping one ; But vacant ftood the bed and I was all alone. IX. I fank upon my knees, While once more on the breeze The Chriftmas bells came founding joyoufly ; And on a fcroll o'erhead Written in light I read The legend : ' Thou haft done it unto ME!' And I forgot my fins and cares, For then I knew HE had been with me unawares.

48 A Chriftmas Carol. 25 And from that hour to this My fire unquenched is ; By daily ufe unminifhed, on the board Still ftand the bread and wine ; And this poor cote of mine, Yet radiant from the prefence of the Lord, Is a rich temple, where I bide Fearlefs His angel's fummons, Hii, whate'er betide. PATON, Chrtflmas Eve, 1882.

49 !A Greek Gem. A charac- KtfjgJJREEK mufic, though it teriftic of Wjvtft was fimple or even Greek *" rude, yet had this mujicalin- \ advantage over the beft of ftrumentii! ours, that it was produced from inftruments which in themfelves were agreeable to look upon, not to fay beautiful in form. It required from the player no attitude or aftion that was not true to the natural movements of the body. In deed it may be faid to have foftered the graceful aftion ot body

50 I A Greek Gem. 27 body and limb. Thus there was affociated with it a triple congruity of fimple melody, inftruments of beautiful form, and grace of aftion in the player. No wonder if Greek artifts, ever obfervant of the finer movements of the human figure, often found infpiration for a defign on a painted vafe or an engraved gem among fcenes of mufic, where in modern times imagination as confhrinks from the difmal afpeft trafted of the inftruments and the con- with thofe tortions of the players. The of the flute was, I believe, the only moderns. inftrument which excited any averfion. Athena is faid to have tried it, and, in difguft at her fwollen cheeks, caft it to i the ground. The refined fimplicity of the

51 28 A Greek Gem. Mujic the mufic fcenes in daily life fcenes a was the lefs likely to efcape fitting ancient gem engravers, fince theme for working, as they did, in beaugems. ful, coftly, and imperifhable materials, they were bound, for the fake of appropriatenefs, if nothing elfe, to look for fubjefts as imperimably true to nature, as tranfparent in fentiment, and as choice in lines and forms. No doubt there were many other fources of infpiration open to the engrav- Of two ers. But it fo happens, that very fine perhaps the very fineft of the Greek Greek gems now in ' exiftence, gems : are two which reprefent fcenes of this kind. On each is a feated figure bending over a lyre, and touching its firings. The one is engraved on carnelian, and is in the Britifh Mufeum ;

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54 A Greek Gem. 29 Mufeum; the other, on rock cryftal, belongs to an Englifh lady, Mifs Cockerell. I may clafs with them, though it is inferior in ftyle, the gem which forms the fubjeft of this paper. It is engraved on a thin flice of pale chalcedony, and has lately been acquired for the Britifh Mufeum. On it a young lady fits read ing from a manufcript, her lyre refting on a cippus before her. The lyre would not be there except to give us to underftand that it is a fong that fhe is reading over to herfelf. The fong more than pleafes her, or fhe would not hold and regard it fo attentively. She has even allowed her drefs to flip down a little from her fhoulder. Her age, and her gracefulnefs of of a thira where of this prefent treatife. Its theme explained.

55 A Greek Gem. of coftume and bearing, tell that the theme of the fong is love. We may be fure it is no tragic phafe of the paffion fuch as infpired the fine poem of Mufaeus, and the far finer rendering of the fame fubjeft in the Bride of Abydos. As on that night of ftormy water, When Love, who fent, forgot to fave The lonely hope of Seftos' daughter. Quaere I As if to indicate the theme "Epos the, more plainly, the word EPJ22 has been faintly fcratched with a diamond fplinter on the cippus under the lyre, by fome later hand, like the remark of a fcholiaft on the margin of a manufcript. But I am warned againft too readily accepting this interpretation, by the faft that Eros was the name of an Athenian

56 A Greek Gem. Athenian fculptor, and may \ alfo have been the name of a j gem engraver. It would not be without parallel for an ' engraver to put his name on I a gem without the cuftomary addition as to authorfhip ; and if the letters had been in keep ing with the workmanftup of the gem, there would have been fome temptation to add Eros to the lift of ancient engravers. But they are not fo, either in form or execution. They are Greek letters of the type familiar in Roman times ; and if they were placed on the gem to record the name of the engraver, it was not himfelf who fo placed them. During the I yth century it was a not uncommon praftice to add to a gem the name of fome en graver,

57 A Greek Gem. graver, or other artift mentioned in ancient literature. Eros, however, has only lately be come known, through the find ing of a ftatue by him at // would Olympia. Altogether there is appear moft to be faid for our firft "Epos the interpretation, that the word theme. had been added to indicate the theme of the fong. Direftly, it would be the name of the God of Love infcribed on a cippus to his honour. Indireftly, the prefence of a cippus, fo in fcribed, would tell that Love was the fubjedl of the fong. The lower part of the gem has unfortunately been broken away, and the beauty of the defign thereby impaired. The ftyle is that of Greek art in the 4th century B.C., with its very low relief, its tender fentiment,

58 A Greek Gem. ment, its refined type of figure, and its careful treatment of drapery. Such figures may be feen on painted vafes of that date, feated and reading from a manufcript, on which fometimes the letters are legible, and not mere marks as on this gem. It mould be noticed with how little of adlual workmanfhip the Greek engraver attained his end in this cafe. The lines are few ; there is not much model ling of forms. He had worked out his image beforehand, fo as to fave all poffible labour of hand, confiftently with its expreffing itfelf clearly. A. S. MURRAY.

59 IN THULE. A LL in a windy dawn of June, ** Our boat rocked on the reftlefs Sound, It feemed as though, from rhyme and rune, Some Norland fpirit fang, around, Waking the mufic of the caves With harp-ftrings of the ftricken waves. We paffed into the tangled voe, And climbed the fteep, brine-crufted coaft ; And, far beyond, we marked the flow And fury of the foam-blenched rooft. But, while the blue fea fumed and rolled, We walked through fweetmarfh-marigold. We

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62 In Thule. 35 We heard the gull wail overhead, We heard the plover on the hill, And further, over marm and mead, We heard the jubilant throb and thrill Of lark on lark, that rofe and fang Till every cloud with gladnefs rang. The wind fell, and the fea lay blue, As blue as heaven, nor wave, nor foam, Save where a changing whitenefs grew Round fome fheer cliff, or far, dim holm. Our ifland lay, in that wide light, An atom in the infinite. We climbed by wild hill roads, that led From green vales, to the ftorm-bleached creft Of flopes that, all in filence, fpread To heaven a world of glorious reft, Where angel feet might, fpotlefs, fall, And God to man be all in all. Blue

63 36 In Thule. Blue firth, green breadths of fhoaling fea, The wild-eyed creatures of the hill, Cloud fhadows that fweep down and flee, Far flung at the broad south wind's will, An awful fummit, (heer and hoar, And falling foam for evermore. What dreadful dawn of ftorm and fire Has moulded Chaos into thee, Ifland that fills my heart's defire, Land of unwritten hiftory? The grey fea-eagle trims her neft ; The paft is folded into reft. There is no found of meaner things, There is no whifper of the earth, Save the fweet voice of infant fprings That babble of their ftainless birth ; And, over all, the haunting call Of plangent feas that roll and fall. DAVID J. MACKENZIE.

64 MIMNERMUS. A T funfall, in the foft Ionian air, ^ The heights of Tmolus burned in waning fire, And fad Mimnermus, on a temple flair, Leaned on his lyre. Below, he heard the river murmuring Between the oleanders. Far away, The fea, beneath white ftars of evening, Empurpled lay. A red rofe kifled his cheek ; his fondling hand Clofed dreamily upon the golden fhell, And, fweetly.onthe drowfy meadow-land, His finging fell. 'As

65 38 Mimnermus. ' As buds amid the bloffom-burdened fpring Wake, break, and catch the fmilc that fills the flcy, We, in the wonder of our wakening, Knowing not why, ' Laugh, love, one little fummer, while our life Hangs on the fleeting tenure of a breath, And one Fate brings Old Age's maiming knife, And one brings Death.' Even as he fang, the marble flop was ftained With crimfon from the broken-hearted flower, Slow as he ceafed, the light of evening waned From tree and tower. DAVID J. MACKENZIE.

66 AN ANXIOUS MOMENT. JN the afternoon of a Mrs. day in the early j Drawwinter or late autumn mond goes that is, in the beginning of horne. November Mrs. Drummond went into her own houfe in one of thofe lofty piles of handfome houfes which are the pride of Edinburgh. I do not venture to fay what name it bore, for thefe ftreets of palaces

67 An Anxious Moment. palaces are fo much alike, that the unaccuftomed eye, however awed by the folemn mafles of their hewn ftones, has diffi culty in identifying them. Mr. Rufkin, talking a great deal of that nonfenfe of his, which is by times divine, has fomewhere defignated Moray Place and its neighbours by the title of 'prifons of fouls.' I think, though that may be abfurd, that their feverity and regularity is extremely alarming in the dimnefs of a winter afternoon, when the day has begun to wane, but the lights have not appeared either within or with out. It is not quite apparent even to myfelf, why I mould take this opportunity of faying fo; for certainly Mrs. Drummond did not think her tall, dark,

68 An Anxious Moment. 41 I dark, grey houfe, in all its Denelaboration of cold uniformity, mark's no a prifon of the foul. She was prifon to aware of the bright rooms thofe who within, the windows that looked think not over that wonderful landscape, fo. which Fitz-Euftace faw (much better) from the hills of Braid, the Firth lying low in the great valley underneath, and the foft background, again ft a grey horizon, of the rounded hills of Fife. And me was aware of all thofe fafcinations of indivi dual life the books, the pic tures, the memories which make a houfe, whether it be a palace or a cottage, into a home. She went in, a cheerful woman, not without cares, yet with the brighteft fide of life fufficiently uppermoft to keep her heart light. Her daughters had

69 An Anxious Moment. had not returned from their holi day vifits here and there, but it was currently reported in the houfe that the mother liked, from time to time, to find herfelf alone with papa and Edward, and have the whole charge of thefe elder children of the family in her hands. Her hufband, me knew, would come in about five, and drink a cup of tea, in the cheerful light of the blazing fire which he loved, and tell her all that had gone on during the day what he had been doing more or lefs, and what was being faid in the Parliament-houfe, or at the club ; all thofe pieces of news which the men pick up, and which a woman likes to have told her in the cheer ful twilight, by the light of the pleafant

70 An Anxious Moment. 43 pleafant fire. Edward, per haps, might come in even earlier, with his contribution of news news about himfelf and what he was doing ; which, after all, was more interefting than political movements or revolutions. So there me was, a cheerful woman, going in to her delightful firefide. Something in the look of! The Simmons, the butler, was the \ftrange firft thing that difturbed her : 1 look of and yet it can fcarcely be faid Simmons that it difturbed her. She faw the he was big with feme im- i butler. portant event ; but, knowing \ Simmons as well as me did, the did not feel that this was neceffarily a momentous matter. Perhaps it only meant another baby in the Simmons nurfery, which fhe was aware was expefted ;

71 An Anxious Moment. expefted ; or perhaps, that he had found out a miftake in the weekly bills ; or that Cook,with whom Mr. Simmons was not on terms of amity, had gone too far in refpeft to the dripping. She perceived the faft accord ingly with as much amufement as curiofity, expefting the ufual requeft, ' If I might have twothree words with you, mem,' with which Simmons began all fuch complaints. But her expectations were not carried out. Simmons, though he was evidently big with fpeech, faid nothing, furprifing and almoft alarming his miftrefs by his reticence. She lingered a little, looking at the cards of some vifitors who had called in her abfence, in reality to give him time to explain himfelf, but

72 An Anxious Moment. 45 but Simmons ftill faid nothing. Then another circumftance ftruck Mrs. Drummond's atten tion. The door of the library was flightly, very flightly, ajar, and within the opening there was a flutter, as if fome one was waiting infide a little flightly fupprefled flutter fomething which, without any real demonftration, conveyed to a woman's quick eye the idea of fome other woman lurking or watching within. 'Is anything wrong?' me faid, turning fuddenly upon the butler, and taking him by furprife. Simmons fell back a ftep, as if he had been attacked, and anfwered, ' Wrong, mem? no, I'm not fure that any thing 's wrong.' She \Tbe library door.

73 An Anxious Moment. She pointed to the door of the library, and afked, ' Who is there?' in a more impera tive tone. 'Weel, mem I would not take upon me to fay who they are. It's it's two leddies.' ' Why didn't you tell me at once? ' faid Mrs. Drummond, relieved. 'Do I know them? And why did you take them there, and not up-ftairs? I fuppofe there is nothing to make a myftery about.' ' Weel, mem,' faid Simmons, rubbing his hands in a depre cating manner, ' I would not take upon me to fay. They 've no name, or at leaft they gave me none. I'm dubious if they are the kind of leddies you would be likely to know.' 'What do you mean?' faid Mrs.

74 An Anxious Moment. 47 Mrs. Drummond fharply: and then fhe proceeded, with a little laugh, 'I had better fee for myfelf at leaft. You can bring in the lamp, it is getting fo dark. They will be after fome fubfcription or other,' fhe faid, and turned to go to the library, where the objefts of her inquiry were. Simmons put out his hand to ftop his miftrefs. He cleared his throat. For once it was evident he was reluftant to fpeak. ' Mem,' he faid, ' if you will bide a moment. They 're not for you, if I muft fay it. They never afked for you.' ' For whom did they aflc, then? ' faid Mrs. Drummond 'foryourmafter? Butthatmakes no difference ; bring the lamp ' ' Mem,

75 An Anxious Moment. Touching i ftrange 'mpulfe. ' Mem, if you would bide a moment.' Simmons had put his hand upon her cloak to reftrain her. ' They 're waiting for Mr. Edward and awfu' anxious to fee him. It was for Mr. Edward they afked.' Mrs. Drummond flopped fhort, with her face towards the library door. She faid only 'Oh!' with a curious gafp, as if her breath had ftopped fhort too and then fhe turned at once, and went upftairs as quickly as if fhe had been purfued, not drawing breath till me found herfelf looking at her own face in the great mirror over the drawingroom mantelpiece. It is a flrange impulfe, but not fo unreafonable as it appears : when

76 An Anxious Moment. 49 when you have no other eyes to look into, to afk what is the meaning of a new event, fometimes there is a little informa tion to be got by looking into your own. She faw her own face rifmg oppofite to her, pale and contrafted with fudden alarm. Ah, yes! though it was only her own face, it told her fomething ; it told her of fecret anxiety, which wanted only a touch like this to burft into flame, and of a haunting dread that had been in her mind through all the peacefulnefs of ] her life. She was a woman who had known many rough places in the path of exiftence in earlier days ; and timorous human nature, never quite cured of that old heathen dread that the gods are envious of the happinefs

77 An Anxious Moment. happinefs of man, had by times awoke within her, with a cry of fright, attending when trouble mould reappear. And was this the reappearance me had dreaded? Had it come again? It is a fad thing for a human creature to have his or her (and rather her than his) imagination fpoiled in their youth. Some people can never be perfuaded to anti cipate evil. They believe by nature that the lick will always get well, and the wrong always be righted. Things have gone well with them hitherto, and it is natural to cxpeft they will do fo to the end. But there are others who have feen ghofts in their earlier days, and who keep on expefting

78 An Anxious Moment. expefting the fight all through life again even at their happieft to whom it feems natural that things mould turn out badly and happinefs appears a mere exemption never to be calcu lated upon from furrounding and inevitable evil. Great love is fadly prone to this latter form. The Italian poet, Leopard!, fays that Love and Death are born together, fince Love makes the thought of parting unen durable, and can only be fafe in the perfeftion of a common end. Mrs. Drummond ftood and looked at herfelf with a j)rum. feeling that the inevitable had \monfs come ; her heart fank within her to the very depths. She faw the curves come about her eyes, and the lines to her mouth, which had feemed to be

79 An Anxious Moment. be all fmoothed out by years of happinefs, and yet were there all the time ; and into her heart there came a great anguifh, the greateft of all the pangs of motherhood. Were all the dreadful experiences of the paft to be renewed in her boy? Were they to be repeated in her boy? he whofe young life had been her pride and her joy her firft-born, her fon, the prop of the houfe, the delight of her heart. Edward! everything that was tender, dear, delight ful, hopeful, excellent, was in his name ; and was that to drop into the invifible depths too? You will fay that fo fimple a faft as that two ladies were waiting to fee her fon

80 An Anxious Moment. 53 fon was no reafon for this pain ; and that was what, after a while, me began to fay to herfelf. She faid to herfelf She that if there had been anything reafoneth wrong in it they would never with herhave come to inquire for him felf. at his home ; that, after all, perhaps they were ladies feeking fubfcriptions, feminine knights-errant, who never mind whom they afk for, or what they do, fo long as they get their lifts filled. Two! Some that of itfelf mowed there fafety in could be no harm: and me numbers. began to upbraid herfelf for a bad-minded woman, thinking evil where no evil was. All this, and a great deal more, went through her mind and calmed her, fubduing her ex citement, but without taking away

81 An Anxious Moment. away the deeper anxiety that lay below for, on the other hand, what could ladies want with Edward, to come and vifit him? ladies with whom his mother was unacquainted. And what did Simmons mean by being dubious whether they were the kind of ladies me was likely to know? The kind of ladies! There was but one kind of ladies, fo far as Mrs. Drummond knew ladies whom any other lady, if fhe were the Queen, might know. Thus me was driven about from one fet of thoughts to another, the one calming, the other exciting her fears; and fank down on the fofa at laft without thinking oftaking offher bonnet, bewildered, forgetting everything except this combat which

82 An Anxious Moment. 55 which went on within her. The afternoon was gradually darkening ; the firelight, be coming every moment of more importance, dancing on the walls, reflefted in every bright furface, making the room more and more into a centre of everything that was comfortable and bright except where fat that dark figure, her mantle falling in heavy folds that gave forth no refleftion, her veil dropping over her face. She darted, however, when Simmons came Simmons up to look to the fire, per- looks to ceiving with uneafinefs that the fire. it was not the fire Simmons was thinking of, but that his curiofity was much excited, and his mind fet on finding this myftery out. 'Oh,

83 An Anxious Moment. ' Oh,' fhe faid, with a little ftart as he appeared, ' I am lazy ; I have not taken off my bonnet Is it time for tea? ' ' It 's not four o'clock,' faid Simmons, with an implied re proach ; ' I juft came to look after my fire.' Simmons was very willing to allow that the houfe belonged to his mafter ; but he faid ' my fire,' and ' my plate,' and 'my table,' with a certain profeffional appropriation. And he poked the faid fire deliberately, and added coals to the blaze, though there was no need for them. Mrs. Drummond was not in a ftate of mind to pay any attention to this wafte. 'Has Mr. Edward come in yet? ' me faid. ' No, mem, he's not come in.' 'And

84 An Anxious Moment. 57. j 'And are the ladies ftill waiting? ' ' Yes, mem, they're ftill wait ing,' Simmons faid. Mrs. Drummond got up and walked to the other end of the room, putting fomething down and taking fomething up, as if quite at her eafe ; but me did not deceive Simmons. She faid, after a moment, quite jauntily, ' What kind of people are they, Simmons, thefe friends of Mr. Edward's? are they old or young? ' ' Well, mem,' faid Simmons, ' they 're both one 's old, and one 's young.' ' Oh! ' faid Mrs. Drummond again, feeling another arrow go into her heart. 'And what did you mean,' me faid, after a moment, 'by telling me that!

85 An Anxious Moment. they were not the kind of ladies I was likely to know?' 'Well, mem,' faid Simmons again, ' they are fcarcely what you would call leddies at a'. It 's juft an honeft woman and her daughter.' ' An honeft woman and her daughter! ' 'Juft that, mem ; but what the young gentleman may have to do with the like of them is what I cannot tell.' 'I think I will fee them myfelf, Simmons. It may be fomebody who it may be I think, as Mr. Edward has not come in, I will go down and fee them myfelf.' ' I would not advife it, mem,' faid Simmons, 'and neither would I go againft you, if that's what you think. Young men are

86 An Anxious Moment. 59 are a thought camftairy they fometimes don't like their friends to interfere but, on the ither hand ' 'I was not afking your advice, Simmons,' the lady faid; then her heart fmote her a little, for the man, fhe was fure, meant very kindly. ' Let me know,' Ihe faid, 'pleafe, as foon as Mr. Edward comes in.' She fat down again to wait. 'An honeft woman and her daughter! ' Mrs. Drummond knew very well what Simmons meant. He meant a perfon who had no pretenfions to be a lady a woman of a humbler clafs a decent, poor woman, with her girl. What could fuch a perfon have to fay to Edward? There was only one The one thing that fhe could have to thing f'ffay. fible.

87 An Anxious Moment. fay. He muft have fallen in love (oh, heaven!) with the daughter's pretty face, and, perhaps who can tell? have afked her to marry him. Women believe devoutly that there is no folly a young man will not do when there is a pretty face in queftion. Some times they err in that, as in other ways ; but, among all the fcepticifms of the time, on this point there are no fceptics. They were engaged, perhaps Ed ward my boy and this girl! ' This creature! ' the angry mother had almolt faid ; but fluwas of a fair and jull mind, and fhe flopped herfelf. What did me know about the girl? The girl might be a good girl, and the mother a woman wife and prudent, who did not mean to throw

88 An Anxious Moment. 61 throw her daughter away. She had no right to take up an evil opinion either of the mother or the daughter. Many a wifer man than Edward had been beguiled in this fame way oh, many a wifer man! and the mother, no doubt, had come to fee after him, to keep him up to the mark, to find out if he was well enough off, perhaps to fix the day! ' Oh! ' the mother faid in her heart, clenching her hands and ftarting to her feet; and then, with her bonnet ftill on, and her veil fhadowing her face, me ran down-ftairs haftily, deter mined at leaft to fee for herfelf what manner of people they were who were thus about to take poffeflion of her boy. The library door was open

89 62 An Anxious Moment. ' Lawful open at leaft it was not efpials.' quite clofed ; a fmall chink was left, through which me divined fome one was eagerly watching, ftartled by every found. She went quickly up to it, and pufhed the door open, and went in. In the imperfeft light fhe faw the two figures ftarting a little back, and difturbed at the fight of her one, a very decent woman, in a large Paifley fhawl, a large bonnet of a by gone fafhion, and an umbrella in her hand ; the other, a great deal younger, a mere girl, but folid in her figure, like her mother, built for all life's ftrong ufes, not like a delicate young lady. They feemed very much furprifed at the fight of her, retiring a little into the

90 An Anxious Moment. 63 theftiadowsoftheroom. Scotch women of their clafs do not curtfy to their focial fuperiors : they are not trained to fuch reverences ; but they made her a ruftic bow, and the mother faid, 'I hope I fee ye weel, ma'am,' in a foft and friendly tone. ' You are waiting for fome one?' faid Mrs. Drummond, herfelf more diffident than they. ' Yes, mem. I was waiting, if poffible, for a word with Mr. Edward,' the mother faid. 'And what did you want with Edward? Oh, not if you are unwilling to tell me! But I am his mother, and I could tell him anything whatever you wifh to fay.' The two ftrangers looked at each other, and then at her. The

91 64 An Anxious Moment. The girl fhook her head flightly, and the mother replied, after a paufe, in an embarrafled tone, ' You know nothing about us, mem maybe you have never heard of us and you wouldna underftand.' ' Oh, I can underfland moft things after a while when I try,' Mrs. Drummond faid with a little hard laugh, feeling that the fituation was too much for her, and that in another moment flie would break down and cry. They confulted each other again by a look. ' Mem,' faid the decent woman, ' I hope you '11 no' take it amifs: but you dinna ken us, and we dinna ken you, and I would rather bide a moment and fee the young gentleman,

92 An Anxious Moment. gentleman, if we 're no' in onybody's way.' Mrs. Drummond was very angry. She felt herfelf quiver with rage and mifery, but what could me fay? She withdrew Exit Mrs, as quietly as poffible out of Drum- the room, and left it to them, mond, and She would have liked to call Simmons, and direft him to turn them out, but the bondage of nature and circumftances was upon her. She could not aft contrary to her own charafter, and to all the habits of her being. She withdrew is quickly as fhe could, feeling hat everything was againft ier even her prejudices igainft difcourtefy, and the leceflity me lay under of onfidering other people and heir feelings. Sometimes it would

93 66 An Anxious Moment, enter Edward. would be a great relief to be able to throw off that cruft of civilifation and good manners, and return to the franknefs of the favage. Now and then indeed very well-bred people are able to do this : but Mrs. Drummond was not of that kind. She went up-ftairs again full of mifery and indignation ; and, before me reached the top, heard the found of the hall door opening, and the light, alert ftep of Edward coming in. Then came the voice of Simmons, giving her fon the information of who awaited him. She could hear in the air the found of Edward's exclamation of furprife, and then me heard the door of the library open and clofe. What a moment that was! She

94 An Anxious Moment. 67 She flood at the door of her drawing-room liftening to any far-off found, that might indi cate what was going on. Prefently, before me could have imagined it to be poffible, there was a noife again ofquick open ing and fhutting of doors the hall door dofing loudly. Had they gone already? had he gone with them? what had happened? Mrs. Drummond hurried to the window, to look out. But next moment the found of a flying footftep caught her ear, and Edward himfelf, pale as a ghoft, and in breathlefs hafte, burft into the room. ' Mother, where are you? ' he cried. Anxious as me was, and with caufe, as fhe feared, to be not

95 68 An Anxious Moment. not only anxious but indignant, it was with a certain fenfe of fhame that Mrs. Drummond Behind appeared from out the lace the arras, curtains that veiled the window. To feem even to have been prying upon him, watching who it was who had juft left him, brought a blufh over her a quick heat of difcomfiture and embarraffment. 'What is it, Edward?' ftie faid, faltering, half avoiding his eye. A demand ' Mother, have you any for [up- money?' he faid; 'give m«plies. what you can, for heaven's fake at once. I have nothing o my own to fpeak of, and muft have it. I can't wail Mother, I've no time to anfwe any queftions give me whs you can, and let me go.' Th

96 An Anxious Moment. 69 This fudden requeft filled her with confternation. She looked at him for a moment, pale with terror and diftrefs. But even here me could not difobey her inftinfts. She took her purfe flowly out of her pocket, always looking at him with eyes full of trouble. 'Money?' me faid, with a trembling voice. ' Oh, mother, don't ftop me to aflc queftions. I 've no time to lofe. If you care for my comfort and peace if you don't want me to die of remorfe and mifery mother, for God's fake! I don't know what I'm faying I'm in great diftrefs,' cried the lad, tears forcing themfelves to his eyes. ' Money is the leaftof it : give ; Money is me what you can, and don't the haft afk of it.

97 An Anxious Moment. aflc me oh, don't afk me. I'll tell you another time.' Mrs. Drummond could not fpeak ; her heart feemed to be broken in two. What did he want money for? where was he going? who were the women who had brought him into this excitement and trouble? all thefe queftions tore her with fharp fangs like harpies ; bur on the other hand was her fon's young face, full of anguifh, breathlefs with hafte, and that anxiety which me could not underftand. Slowly me put out her hand to his, and gave him, without looking at it, the purfe, which was fuch a fmall matter the truft, which was fuch a great one truft which was not confidence, which was full of pain and doubt,

98 An Anxious Moment. doubt, and a fick terror that what fhe was doing might be for Edward's harm and not good. But otherwife fhe could not aft, whatever the penalty might be. He never flopped to thank her even to look at her but turned and damed down-flairs, and out of the houfe without a word faid. II. ; Twenty-four hours had Tiventyof the moft extreme and [four hours miferable anxiety. Edward \later. dined out that night, and did not return till late. Mrs. Drummond did not venture to change any of the habits of her life, or to mow her anxiety in any vifible way. She I

99 An Anxious Moment. She faid nothing to his father, who vaguely perceived his wife's pre-occupation, but was not fufficiently roufed to put any queftions on the fubjeft. Something made him fay at dinner that Edward was going out too much that it could not be good for his ftudies : which was rather a refleftion thrown immediately into his mind from his wife's than any original obfervation of his own. But he afked no quef tions about his fon, and the mother faid nothing, ezerting herfelf to talk as ufual, to go calmly to reft as ufual, without fhowing the trouble fhe was in. For, perhaps, it was nothing after all perhaps it could all be explained; and why fhould his father be difturbed

100 An Anxious Moment. 73 turbed and made unhappy by fomething which was nothing? So fhe bore it as beft fhe could, which is the woman's fpecial burden in this world, and covered up the dorm of con flifting thoughts, that whirl of quickening anxieties in her own mind, with an outward afpeft of quietnefs and calm ordinary life and fpeech which by moments became fo intolerable to her that if me A fafety could for any reafon have valve rebroken out in flirieks and quired ; paffion, or in weeping and fobbing, or even in domeftic ftorm, it would have been an unfpeakable relief. But none tut pro of the fervants would do any- vokingly thing to give her that opening, abfent. They were all exceptionally on their good behaviour. Simmons indeed

101 An Anxious Moment. indeed kept his eye on her as if he knew all about it, and was her accomplice in deceiv ing the mafter of the houfe ; but Simmons was the laft perfon upon whom fhe could burft forth. After the weary evening was over, me lay awake in the dark and filence till me heard the welcome click of the door at midnight, and heard her fon's light foot fkim up the long ftaircafe. At all events, he was fafe in the neft for that night, whatever to-morrow might bring. But the morning brought no further enlightenment : Edward, who was generally late, was punctilious to a moment that day, breakfafted along with his father, left the

102 An Anxious Moment. 75 the houfe with his father, in fuch good time for his lefture! which was a thing that pleafed her much on ordinary occafions, but not to-day. For not a word could pafs in the father's prefence, who knew nothing. Mrs. Drummond went out about her ufual occupations in a kind of defperation in the fhort funmine of the wintry morning. The fun was red, mining through a frofty mift, which was not difheartening, like the heavy air of London, but cheerful and full of poetic effefts : and the cold was juft enough to make the paflengers move quickly about the ftreets and give a keener afpeft to the bufinefs and movement with which the air was full. Mrs. Drummond

103 An Anxious Moment. Like dull narcotics, numbing fain. Drummond did all her domeftic bufinefs that day with aftivity far greater than her ufual walking about, keeping in contlant movement, deadening a little the gnawing of the anxiety in her heart. But as fhe came out of one of the mops, where fhe had gone to feek fome fpecial delicacy which Edward was fond of (me felt eafier when me was catering fpecially for him, as if he had been ill and required double confideration in that way), a ftrange thing happened to her. She faw Edward himfelf pafs, walking rather flowly with his head bent, looking neither to the right nor to the left, abforbed in fomething, in his own thoughts. The fight of him was ftrange to his mother,

104 An Anxious Moment. 77 mother, as if fome one had ftruck her. She ftifled the little cry that came to her lips, with a Scotfwoman's ftrong diflike to demonftration of any kind, but paufed on the pave ment, looking after him with an impulfe which me could not reftrain nor obey. To follow him her fon! to watch him, herfelf unfeen to betray the awful doubt, the foul-maftering fear, that was in her, and yet not to betray them to go ftealthily after him like a thief, like a fpy! all the difhonour of it, the ftealthinefs, the fufpicioufnefs, the meannefs of fpying, flamed into her mind. She blufhed from head to foot, a hot wave i of fhame and felf- contempt pafting over her, and then fhe went Seeing, unfeen.

105 An Anxious Moment. went after him. Let thofe blame her who do not know the heart. She ran over to herfelf all the evil that was in it, and then fhe did it, as fo many of us do, but few with fo good an excufe. Her heart began to beat louder and louder as me followed her boy, afhamed of it, pulling down her veil over her face, as if that light film of lace could hide her, either from him or from herfelf. Edward walked more slowly than ufual, or fhccould not have kept up with him : and yet me felt as if me could have kept up with even a winged pafienger, fo hafty and breathlefs with the fpeed of going was her loud-beating heart. Edward walked away to wards

106 An Anxious Moment. 79 wards the weft, over the Dean Bridge, into the open country a long, long way, paffing fo many rows of comfortable houfes, and the towers of the great hofpital, and the alien cyprefles, which have no right to watch in their claffical and heathen gloom over cheerful Chriftian graves. Thoughts of this kind, wild and far apart from her all-abforbing objeft, flew acrofs her mind as me walked along Edward always in fight, going flowly, never looking round. He muft have feen her had he looked round. Sometimes me thought he was going to turn, and trembled; but he never did fo he walked ftraight on, reflectively, as if he were thinking of fomething he who ufually fkimmed the ground with Beyond the Dean Bridge. Still onward winds the dreary way.

107 An Anxious Moment. with a foot fo light. The flow plodding of his pace ftruck her anew like an additional blow. It increafed all her fears of harm, and yet it touched her fo, going to her heart. Gay Edward, the boy who was like the Squire in Chaucer ' Singing he was or floyting alle the day,' as fhe had faid of him a hundred times, but now fo thoughtful, hanging his head, going along pondering, ponder ing all the way. What was he thinking of with fuch a heavy heart? What was it that took the fpring from his footftep? And where was he going? to the woman of lall night fhe knew inftinftively: but why and what were they to him? The woman was an honeft woman it was written all over

108 An Anxious Moment. 81 over her ; a decent woman, as Simmons faid. And that flow refleaive ftep was not the ftep of a lover. Why was he going there? what had they to do with him? Thefe queftions! floated about her, rang in her ears, founded over and over again, into the very recefles of her heart, but no anfwer came. At laft they came all to a ftop with a fudden clang and fhock. He had come to the houfe. It was a little houfe ; no more than a cottage. Mrs. The Drummond faw at a glance decent that it could belong to no one teoman's but the vifitor of laft night. cottage. It was like her, as a houfe (efpecially in the country) gets like its poffeffor the windows bright and clean, with little muflin curtains tight acrofs

109 82 An Anxious Moment. The door «opened and Jbut. acrofs the lower part, the door-ftep white, no flowerpots choking up the air infide, but a monthly rofe trained by the door, and with a pale flower or two upon it fmiling at the world even in November. Mrs. Drummond faw all this with one look, and then her whole being feemed to be arrefted as the door opened and fhut, and Edward difappeared. She ftood ftill, and, what was more, her heart ftood ftill, and all her beating pulfes feemed to ftop for the moment. She felt a moment's brief ftrange fufpenfion of life as me ftood there, scarcely breathing. Thus all things had come to an end. Her fpying, her ftealthy following, her outrage upon the honour and candour of life

110 An Anxious Moment. life flopped here. She could go no further what was fhe to do? There was nobody but An atvk herfelfupon the road; a little ward prefurther on was the lodge gate! dicament. of a houfe in which people whom fhe knew lived any one of whom might come out and difcover her ; a little further was a clufter of cot tages, a fort of little hamlet but here nothing. She \ flood, and leaned upon a garden wall, that flcirted the road, and felt without fhrinking the cold dew drop upon her from the branches that overhung it. What was fhe to do? She could not go back again in fecret, and leave the myftery unfolved, after fhe had fhamed herfelf

111 An Anxious Moment. Time travels in divers paces. The door is opened. herfelf to her own knowledge in this attempt to find it out. Time goes flow in moments like this, and it goes faft. Each individual inftant is like a year, but the whole together, nothing, a moment's fpace. Mrs. Drummond thought flic had not been more than a minute leaning againft that wall, looking acrofs a bit of open fpace, on the other fide, at the cottage, which ftood withdrawn a little from the road at a right angle, when the door opened again audibly, with a found that difturbed the foft, humid filence, and ftartled her out of all command of herfelf. She faw as through a mift her fon appear, accompanied by the vifitor of laft night, whofe apron was at her eyes, and who had

112 An Anxious Moment. had evidently been crying ; behind her appeared the fliadow of the girl looking over her fhoulder. They were bidding Edward good bye. The air was fo ftill that the fpeftator could hear what they were faying. ' God blefs you, fir,' the honeft woman faid. 'Oh, don't fay that!' faid Edward, ' fay you forgive me all the anxiety I have caufed you but you will when you have him home to-night.' ' God blefs you,' was repeated again, this time by two voices, and then the door was clofed, and Mrs. Drummond, fhutting her eyes, heard her fon coming towards her. What could fhe do? If fhe had turned and fled, he would have feen and recognifed her all the fame. She A parting MeJJtng ; and a dreaded approach.

113 An Anxious Moment. She leant all her weight againft the wall, feeling her limbs quiver under her, and the light go from her eyes. She did not feem to breathe, count ing the fteps as they came towards her. Nearer they came, and nearer then ftopped ; and Mrs. Drummond, hurriedly opening her eyes, heard him call ' Mother! ' in a voice of conflernation, and faw him dimly with a mift about him, through which he appeared to her young, fevere, terrible, like St. George with his fpear. ' Mother! how have you come here? ' She got back her breath, and anfwered him in a gafp, ' After you, Edward.' ' Mother you followed ' She

114 An Anxious Moment. 87 She bowed her head, and clofed her eyes again, feeling as if the young warrior had transfixed her with that fpear the fpear of truth and earneft purpofe. Oh, yes! not to be miftaken! going through and through her; but oh, with what a fmart of joy! 'Edward! I am ftruck to the earth with mame. I came after you like a fpy ' He had a right, if he chofe, to turn the fpear in the wound and fhe was willing. Every thing was fweet now me had feen that light in his eyes. Inftead of that, me felt his arm around her in a moment. ' Oh, mother! how anxious you have been. I fee it all now. I have left you in diftrefs, only thinking of the other without

115 An Anxious Moment. a word of explanation. I fee it now. You were a bit of myfelf it did not feem to matter ; but forgive me I fee it now forgive me, mother dear!' 'Forgive you!' ftie faid; 'is there anything your mother needs to be aflced to forgive you, Edward? And you were quite right; I am yourfelf I ought to have divined.' The moment me had faid this, throw ing her head high in proud con fidence, me fuddenly clafped his arm with both her hands, and faid, in a low befeeching tone, ' What is it, what is it, Edward? Oh, tell me, my own boy!' ' I am to blame all the fame, mother,' Edward faid; and as they walked, me clinging to his arm, he told her the ftory. Now

116 An Anxious Moment. Now Edward had not been one of thofe young men who have never given his parents any anxiety fince the day they were born, of whom one hears fometimes. Happy are the parents who have fuch fons! Appearances may be againft i them, but charafter is ftronger j than appearances. But Ed ward was not one of thefe. He had done nothing very wrong, but he had been carelefs, blown about by different winds. And this was why his mother had plunged at once into fuch mortal terror con cerning him fearing me knew CharaHer verfus appearances not what. Edward began to Edward tell her his ftory, with her arm tells his drawn through his, and his ' fttry. hand clafping it : for thefe carelefs boys have their compenfating

117 An Anxious Moment. penfating qualities, and are more humble-minded than thofe who know themfelves above fufpicion. He told her that he had been dining at the Gaflle on the night before that day of trouble, as me knew. 'But you didn't know how late I was I was fo late that I couldn't get out without bringing Seton into trouble. You know how ftrift they are, mother. What was I to do? if I had flayed there all night, as they wanted me, I don't know what you and my father would have faid. I made up my mind direftly to come down the rock.' ' Edward! you might have killed yourfelf! ' 'No fear! I've fcrambled about the Craigs too often for that

118 An Anxious Moment. 91 I that ; but when I got down almoft to the bottom, there was the fergeant with his party relieving the guard. I lay low, but they had feen me. What was I to do? I Ve been in a lot offcrapes before, you know, mother ' 'Oh, yes,' me faid, making her head, 'I know.' Carelefs Edward carelefs ftill, with all his trouble gave a broken laugh at the thought. ' Somebody was paffing down below I caught fight of him by the lamplight. I gave a whiftle, and faid, " Charlie, lend us a hand." He looked up, and gave one fpring, and flood by at the dykefide to help me down. And I don't know how we got mixed up, mother I could not tell you I've tried Tbefequel to a dinner at tie Caftle.

119 An Anxious Moment. tried to make it out, but I can't do it. The only thing I know was, that I got fafe home, and Charlie fell into their hands.' 'Who is Charlie?' fhe afked. ' Charlie Muir and that was his mother that came to tell me I never heard what had happened till then. She did not hear herfelf till the afternoon, and the Hate ftie had been in! worfe than you for you would have thought it fome of my carelefs ways ; but fhe thought, knowing what a ftraight, fteady fellow he was fhe thought he was killed, all that night and half the day : mother, think! ' ' Oh, my boy! ' cried Mrs. Drummond, prefling his arm ; and

120 An Anxious Moment. 93 and oh, the thoughts fhe had The been thinking of that decent anxious woman! who had been in moment trouble far greater than her hath own. ' 1 rumed up to the place at once, and they let me fee him. He had not faid a word about me truft him for that; but he had faid he was only paffing, and had never been on the rock at all : and the men all knew fomebody had been on the rock. I could do very little with your money, after all. I brought it back, or the moft of it,' faid Edward. ' I tipped a man or two to be good to him ; and then I went to Seton, who was ready, of courfe, to take his mare of the blame. But the man I wanted was Colonel Wedderburn, and him!

121 94 An Anxious Moment. Tlie anxious moment all but returneth. him we could not find. Charlie is to be brought up at two o'clock, and Seton was to try and nail the Colonel at one, to get him to interfere. And I thought I would go in the meantime, to tell Mrs. Muir that it would all be right. Did you hear her God-bleffing me? when me ought to have done the other thing! And I 'm not half fo fure, as I faid I was,' Edward cried, making Us head. 'But yes, I am! They'll have to lock me up inftead of him. He mail not be punifhed for me.' 'How did they know to come to you, Edward? ' his mother afked, with fome linger ing fufpicion ftill in her tone. ' He told them I was his kind friend, and that I would help

122 An Anxious Moment. 95 I help them. Fancy! when it was all for me he was there but not a word of that did Charlie fay. I 'd like you to know him. They're poor, and he's not what you call a gentleman, mother. Gentle man! he might be a prince,' Edward cried. ' If he was a king he could \ be no better than a gentleman. But I think he muft be that in his heart,' faid Mrs. Drummond. ' Edward, I am dread fully tired though I Ve no fuch reafon as that good woman. Get a cab as foon as you can fee one, and I'll go with you to Colonel Wedderburn. If he does not liften to you wild lads, he will liften to me.' They had ftill to walk a long way, however, before the welcome

123 94 An Anxious Moment. him we could not find. Charlie is to be brought up at two o'clock, and Seton was to try and nail the Colonel at one, to get him to interfere. And I thought I would go in the meantime, to tell Mrs. Muir that it would all be right. Did you hear her God-bleffing me? when fhe ought to have done the other thing! And I 'm not half fo fure, as I faid I was,' Edward cried, fhaking his head. 'But yes, I am! They'll have to lock me up inftead of him. He mall not I be punifhed for me.' The ' How did they know to anxious come to you, Edward? ' his moment mother afked, with fome lingerall but re- ing fufpicion ftill in her tone. turneth. ' He told them I was his kind friend, and that I would help

124 An lp not * '3IIBee' 80

125 96 An Anxious Moment. A lucky cabman. welcome cab came in fight The fame cab made a littl fortune out of the cafe tha afternoon. It drove up ani down from the Caftle, an waited about while everybod was interviewed, and the ftor told over and over. Every thing ended finally in the mo; innocent way. Young Seto had his leave flopped, an Edward fpent his mother; money in paying the fin inflifted as the penalty of th efcapade ; and Muir, wh had fo nearly been the fcape goat, and who in his deprefle condition, after being locke up for two nights, looked dc plorable enough, was conveye home triumphant by Edwarc as much delighted and happ in his friend's virtue as if h himfel

126 An Anxious Moment. 97 himfelf had never been to blame at all. Neither of them was much the worfe for the incident, which made the moft capital ftory in all their College Societies, and circu lated through the clafs-rooms, for weeks afterwards nay, if there had been a UNION at that moment, it would no doubt have run through all its brotherhoods how Charlie Muir, the fteadieft of good fellows, was locked up inftead of Ned Drummond the greateft joke! The two mothers iiniled too, after a time, at the thought of how their hearts were racked, and all the dreadful images that had peopled the filence on that terrible night ; but fuch moments are too ferious Heec olita, etc.

127 An Anxious Moment. ferious for laughter to the women, even when all is well that ends well, as this did. But that is one of the myfteries, more profound than Greek philofophy, which it is fo hard and difficult to make the young men know. M.O. W. OLIPHANT.

128 BURNS. BROTHER of Homer, Nature's darling child, Beft prophet of this dainty-cultured age, When men by far-fought fancies grandly fpoiled Find Truth's fair face in thy untutored Thy home-fpun words let filken dames difpraife, And book-learned wits thy ploughman's phrafe defpife, There lives a power in thy frefh bicker ing lays That kins thee with the beft that ftar the fkies. Thy

129 i oo Burns. Thy fong is like the purple-vefted Ben, Rooted in granite, round whofe fhoulders fweep Salubrious airs, and lucid fountains leap Joyful into the warm green-winding glen, Where rufhing rivers pour their roaring tide, And grand old pine trees tofs their branchy pride. JOHN STUART BLACKIE. Xalpctv /ueri xcuptvtwv, Kal K\ateiv

130 TO A FAIR LADY Who 'wished she had been born a Man. CAT there was would be a tiger, For it was plain to fee Tigers both ftronger are and bigger Than any cat may be. So the cat prayed to Jove ; and Jove, Who cooks all kinds of dirties, Sent winged Hermes from above To do what pufly wifhes. The cat became a tiger ; but Had fcarcely reared his head, When through the jungle a flant fhot Laid mighty pufly dead! Let

131 IO2 To a Fair Lady. Let cats learn wifdom, and abide In their own fkin fecurely : The bigger beaft oft ferves to guide The marksman's ball more furely! JOHN STUART BLACKIE. PAULUS.

132 DRESS. To Miss E. P., I love thee not, or rather not Thy drefs, fo loudly red, fo grandly gay ; Such gorgeous trappings fling a fplendid blot On thy mild nature's virginal difplay. Take blue convolvulus, or fpeedwell blue, Mingled with lilies white, which poets prize, Or from yon fkies filch their cerulean hue, To match the fummer fweetnefs of thine eyes. Nature abhors ill-forted mixtures ; fo Compofe thy garb as thy fair mould we fee; Not

133 1 04 Dress. Not all birds may be eagles ; and the fhow That lights dark-eyed fultanas blindeth thee. Be wife : and match thy vefture with thy foul And thofe twin lucid orbs, to make one tuneful whole. JOHN STUART BLACKIE. 'Ev r!f avmi.trpig T& KU.\OV. PLATO.

134 THE SCOTCH STUDENT'S DREAM. i. From WILLIAM SAWBONES, M.D., D.Sc., F.A.L.S.E., (Fellow of all the Learned Societies of Europe), to the Secretary, Senatus of the University of Edinburgh. 51 MORAY PLACE, Edinburgh, June 4, DEAR SIR, Yours to hand which I fhould have anfwered fooner

135 Student's Dream. fooner but for a confultation with Sir William Gull, which took me to London. I accept with pleafure the Senatus's offer of an examinerfhip in Materia Medica, not for the honour (which I do not need), nor for the remuneration (which is a mere bagatelle), but becaufe my alma mater has a claim upon her fon. Yours in hafte, W. SAWBONES. II. From W. SAWBONES, M.D., &c., &c., to MEJSRS. M-CM-LL-N & Co., Publishers, London. DEAR SIRS, Seeing that fo many eminent Scientifts are calling for a cheap edition of my book, I do not know that one

136 The Scotch 107 one can well refufe them. I leave all the arrangements to you. Pleafe announce that all the proceeds from the People's Edition (is it the twelfth or the fifteenth?) will go to the Edinburgh Infirmary. Yours truly, W. SAWBONES. As gener ous as great. III. From JOHN GILMOUR, Private Secretary to W. SAWBONES, M.D., &c., &c., to HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. MADAM, Mr. Sawbones requefts me to acknowledge receipt of your favour of the 1 3th, and to refpeftfully decline the honour of knight hood which your Majefty propofes to confer upon him. Mr. He refufeth royal recogni tion of his merit,

137 io8 Student's Dream. after the Mr. Sawbones, like his fajhion countryman Carlyle, is a man of his of the people, and has his own country valuation for empty honours. man, He begs me to ftate that he Carlyle. takes your communication in the fpirit in which it was apparently meant, and wifhes your Majefty well. At the fame time he is furprifed at its tenour, feeing that the advanced charafter of Mr. Sawbones's views are matter of public notoriety. You have permiffion to make what ufe you pleafe of this letter. I remain, MADAM, Your humble Servant, JOHN GILMOUR. IV.

138 The Scotch 109 IV. From W. SAWBONES, M.D., &c., &c., to LADY FANNY LISLE, Tally Castle, Perthshire. DEAR LADY FANNY, Do you really think that I 'flung away the glove like the end of a cigar, the moment your back was turned'? Surely you know me better. I mail not fay where I preferve it as a relic of the happieft evening of my life. I hope Lord Lifle did not fcold you very much when you got home? You were not more than an hour late. Have juft fent off the flowers, which I hope you will like. Did I tell you that it has rained here ever fince your departure the angels weeping Trium phant in love t with maidens of the nobleft flation.

139 Student's Dream. weeping becaufe you have gone away. The old addrefs will always find me. My kindelt regards to your fifter, Lady Gertrude. Dare I fend to yourfelf the meflage that trembles on my lips? Believe me, dear Lady Fanny, yours moft truly, W. SAWBONES. V. From W. SAWBONES, M.D., &c., &c., to the PROFESSOR OF ANATOMY, Edinburgh Univer sity. MY DEAR TURNER, If your experiment is ftill a failure, bring your inftruments round to me, and I '11 fet you right. Yours, W. S. VI.

140 The Scotch 1 11 VI. From W. SAWBONES, M.D., &c., &c., to the PROCESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE, Uni versity ofedinburgh. MY DEAR MASSON, Come round to-morrow, and take a chop at fix. If Tennyfon has not gone, bring him with you. As ever, W. S. A portion of the belles lettres. VII. NOTICE on the Door of W. SAWBONES'S residence, 5 I Moray Place. Pleafe addrefs all communi cations for the next fortnight ' Care of LORD ROSIBZRY, Dalmeny.' (Signed) W. SAWBONES. VIII. He attain eth topeli tical im portance.

141 I 12 The heart ditb pro digally lend the tongue vows. Student's Dream. VIII. From W. SAWBONES, M.D., & &c., to LADY FANNY Lisi care of the Gardener's Lod± Tvlly Castle. (To be cal for.} MY OWN LITTLE ONE, 1 courfe I am true to you. He could you alarm your fwe little felf with fuch a queftio: You have been mifinform about Mrs. de Gray. I affii you I only danced with h twice, and the fecond til becaufe I could not get out it. Oh, my precious, as if cared to have any partner b my jealous, unreafonable, love little laffie of Tully Caft Sometimes I catch myf fmiling at all the reft of yo fex, trying to pafs themfeh

142 The Scotch oft" as women, as if there were more than one woman in the world! My pet's letter made me fo happy. I live for another to-morrow. Give Gertrude my love (juft a tiny bit of it). You know it is all yours to parcel out as you like. Good-night, darling. Ever your WILLIAM. IX. From W. SAWBONES, M.D.,&c., &c., Testimonial in favour of the Professor of Physiology in the University of Edinburgh, Candidate for an Honorary Chair in the University of Paris. I HAVE had exceptional opportunity of judging of the merits of Mr. Rutherford, and have

143 X. Difplayeth a kind ly encour agement of rifing Student's Dream. have much pleafure in recom mending him to your favourable confideration. As a profeffor he has gained my efteem by his confcientious difcharge of his duties. For the laft two years he has been a frequent vifitor at my houfe, where an informal Phyfiological Society meets weekly, and on thefe occafions I have been favour ably ftruck, not lefs by the originality of his fuggeftions, than by his readinefs to feize a point when it has been ex plained to him. He has alfo proved of much fervice in affifting me with my fcientific inveftigations. Mr. Rutherford is a man in whofe career I take a warm intereft. W. SAWBONES.

144 The Scotch x. From W. SAWBONES, M.D., &c., &c., to the EARL OF LISLE, Tully Castle, Perthshire. MY LORD, I am much furprifed by the tenour of your Lordfhip's communication. You aft. my intentions with regard to your daughter, Lady Fanny. I reply that I have no inten tions whatever. I regard your daughter, my Lord, with feel ings of efteem, and I can only fay, that no one regrets more than I do, the unhappy attach ment which you fay me has conceived for me. I may go further, my Lord, and aflert that, though this is not by any means the firft cafe of the kind, I never regretted one Only too eligible.

145 n6 Student's Dream. one more. Aflure Lady Fanny of my continued admiration, and point out to her that a man like myfelf is hardly juftified in making one woman happy at the expenfe of fo many others. My Lord, I can put my hand upon my heart, and fay, with all honefty, that I never faid or wrote one word to your unhappy daughter that went beyond the expreffion of fentiments of the mofl ordinarily friendly character. I remain, my Lord, your obedient Servant, W. SAWBONES, thro' J. GILMOUR. XI.

146 Student's Dream, XI. From W. SAWBONES, M.D., &c., &c., to the PROVOST OF DUNDEE. (Telegram.) Much gratified to hear that the Dundee Town Council have agreed to ereft a ftatue to me in my native town. Fear am unworthy of the honour. XII. (THE AWAKENING.) From R. SAWYER, Medical Student, Edinburgh, to W. SAWBONES, Medical Student, on a visit to his parents at Dundee. (Post-card.) 28ti> July, plucked again. Both Awaketb and difcerneth the truth. J. M. BARRIE.

147 A FAIR BARGAIN. 4 T Tl THAT wad ye gie for a wife, laddie ; * What wad ye gie for a wife? ' 'Gien it was yerfel' an' nae ither, laffie, I wad gie my verra life! ' ' What guid wad that do me, laddie? Set me to bury the deid! ' ' I wad gie ye filler an' claes, laffie, An' the whiteft o' a' white breid.' ' Troth, I hae fie at name, laddie!. An' I wadna, whether or no! ' ' Tell me then what ye wad hae, laffie, Or I '11 tak my ftick an' go! 'Or

148

149

150 A Fair Bargain ' Or hear til me, ance for a', laffie! What wad ye gie yerfel' For the laddie abune a' laddies, The verra mirracle? ' ' Ye hae anfwert yer ain cry, laddie, But ony ringin' o' bell! For that fame laddie o' laddies I wad juft gie myfel'.' ' An' fie a laddie o' laddies I reckon wad get ye cheap! ' ' Oh, na ; fie a laddie o' laddies Wad pay mair nor ony a heap! ' But I 'd feek neither claes nor filler, Coo, nor corn, nor hoofe! ' ' Oot wi' t, lafs! or we '11 differ : Ye couldna live like a moofe! ' 'Gien

151 I2O A Fair Bargain. ' Gien ye were that laddie o' laddies, Ye wadna need me to tell! He wad gie 't like a thouchtlefs laffie, Thinkin' naething o' himfel'! ' ' What ye are after, laffie, For my life I canna tell! ' ' Ye 're no ower gleg, I dout, laddie! What wad he gie but himfel'! ' GEORGE MAC DONALD.

152

153 Serais likely ft rain,, " lie

154 The Philofopher and The Butterflies. I HE fcene was in a Thefcene. garden, on a fine fummer morning, brilliant with flants of funfhine, yet chequered with clouds fignificant of more than a remote poffibility of rain. All the animal world was aftir. Birds flitted or hopped from fpray to fpray ; Butterflies eddied around flowers, within, or upon which Bees were buftling ; Ants

155 122 The Philofopher and The purpofe of the U. K. S. fetforth. Ants and Earwigs ran nimbly about on the mould ; a Member of the Univerfal Knowledge Society perambu lated the gravel path. The Univerfal Knowledge Society, be it underftood, exifts for the diflemination, and not for the acquifition of knowledge. Our Philofopher, therefore, did not occupy himfelf with confidering whether in that miniature world, with its countlefs varieties of animal and vege table being, fomething might not be found with which he was himfelf unacquainted, but, like the honey-freighted bee, rather fought an opportunity of disburdening himfelf of his ftores of information, than of adding to them. But who

156 the Butterflies. 123 was to profit by his communicativenefs? The noify birds could not hear themfelves fpeak, much lefs him; he flirewdly diftrufted his ability to command the attention of the bufy Bees ; and even a Member of the Univerfal Knowledge Society may well be at a lofs for a fuitable addrefs to au Earwig. At length he determined to accoft a Butterfly who, after fipping the juice of a flower, remained perched indolently upon it, apparently undecided whither to direft his flight. 'It feems likely to rain,' he faid ; ' have you an um brella?' The Butterfly looked curioufly at him, but returned no anfwer. 'I

157 124 The Philofopher and which, fomewhat one-jtded atfirft. ' I do not afk,' refumed the Philofopher, 'as one who mould imply that the pro bability of even a complete faturation ought to appal a ratiocinative being, endowed with wifdom and virtue. I rather defigned to direft your attention to the inquiry whether thefe attributes are, in faft, rightly predicable of Butterflies.' Still no anfwer. ' An impreffion obtains among our own fpecies,' continued the Philofopher, ' that you Butterflies are de ficient in forefight and pro vidence, to a remarkable, I might almoft say, a culpable degree. Pardon me if I add that this fufpicion is to fome extent confirmed by my finding you

158 the Butterflies. you deftitute of proteftion againft imbriferous inclemency, under atmofpheric conditions whofe contingent humidity fhould be obvious to a being endowed with the moft ordi nary allotment of meteoro logical previfion.' The Butterfly ftill left all the talk 'to the Philofopher. This was juft what the latter defired. ' I greatly fear,' he con tinued, ' that the omiflion to which I have reluftantly ad verted is, to a certain extent, typically charafteriftic of the entire political and social economy of the lepidopterous order. It has even been ftated, though the circumftance appears fcarcely credible, that your fyftem of life does not include

159 126 The Philofopher and The infeffs retort. TbePhilofopher n- fumeth. include the accumulation of adequate refources againft the inevitable exigencies of Winter.' 'What is Winter?' afked the Butterfly, and flew off without awaiting an anfwer. The Philofopher remained for a moment fpeechlefs, whether from amazement at the Butterfly's nefcience, or difguft at his ill-breeding. Recovering himfelf immedi ately, he fhouted after the fugitive ' Frivolous animal! It is this levity,' continued he, addreffing a group of butterflies who had gradually aflembled in the air, attrafted by the converfation, 'It is this fatal levity that conftrains me to wholly defpair of the future of 700

160 the Butterflies. I27 you infefts. That you fhould perfiftently remain at your prefent deprefled level! That you mould not immediately enter upon a procefs of felfdevelopment! Look at the Bee! How did me acquire her fting, think you? Why cannot you ftore up honey as fhe does?' 'We cannot build cells,' fuggefted a Butterfly. 'And how did the Bee learn, do you fuppofe, unlefs by imbuing her mind with the elementary principles of mathematics? Know that time has been when the Bee was as incapable of architec tural conftruftion as yourfelves, when both you and me alike were indifcriminable particles of primary protoplafm. (I fuppofe The Bee as an example. Ex humili potens.

161 The Philofopher and fuppofe you know what that is.) One has in procefs of time exalted itfelf to the cognition of mathematical truth, while the other Pfhaw! Now, really, my friends, I muft beg you to take my obfervations in good part. I do not imply, of courfe, that any endeavour of yours in the direftion I have indi cated could benefit any of you perfonally, or any of your pos terity for numberlefs genera tions. But I really do confider that, after a while, its effefts would be very obfervable that in twenty millions of years or fo, provided no geological cataclyfm fupervened, you Butter flies, with your innate genius for mimicry, might be con formed, in all material refpefts, to

162 the Butterflies. to the hymenopterous model, or perhaps carry out the principle of development into novel and unheard-of direftions. You mould derive, much en couragement from the begin ning you have made already.' ' How a beginning? ' inquired a Butterfly. ' I am alluding to your larval conftitution as Cater pillars,' returned the Philofopher. ' Your advance upon that humiliating condition is, I admit, remarkable. I only wonder that it mould not have proceeded much further ; with fuch capacity for development, it is incomprehenfible that you mould fo long have re mained ftationary. You ought to be all Toads by this time, at the very leaft.' 'I

163 The Philofopber and ' I beg your pardon,' civilly interpofed the Butterfly. ' To vihat condition were you pleafed to allude?' 'To that of a Caterpillar,' rejoined the Philofopher. The But- 'Caterpillar!' echoed the terflies re- Butterfly, and ' Caterpillar ' pudiate tittered all his volatile comtheir an- panions, till the air feemed eejlry. broken into little filvery waves i of fairy laughter. ' Caterpillar! he pofitively thinks we were once Caterpillars! He! he! he!' ' Do you aftually mean to fay you don't know that?' refponded the Philofopher, fcandalifed at the irreverence of the infefts, but inwardly rejoicing at the profpeft of a controverfy in which he could not be worfted. 'We

164 the Butterflies. ' We know nothing of the fort,' rejoined a Butterfly. ' Can you poffibly be plunged into fuch utter oblivion of your embryonic antecedents? ' ' We do not underftand you. All we know is that we have always been Butterflies.' ' Sir,' faid a large dull-look ing Butterfly, with one wing in tatters, crawling from under a cabbage, and limping by reafon of the deficiency of feveral legs, ' let me entreat you not to deduce our fcientific flatus from the inconfiderate aflertions of the un thinking vulgar. I am proud to aflure you that our race comprifes many philofophical reafoners, moftly, indeed, fuch as have been difabled by acci dental injuries from joining in the

165 The Philofopher and the amufements of the reft. The Origin of our Species has always occupied a diftinguiftied place in their inveftigations. It has on feveral occafions engaged the attention of our profoundeft thinkers for not lefs than two confecutive minutes. There is hardly a quadruped on the land, a bird in the air, or a fifh in the water, to which it has not been afcribed by fome one at fome time ; but never, I am rejoiced to fay, has any Butterfly ever dreamed of attributing it to the obnoxi ous thing to which you have so unaccountably made refer ence.' ' We mould rather think not, chorufled all the Butterflies. ' Look here,' faid the Philo fopher, picking up and exhibit in

166 the Butterflies. ing a large hairy Caterpillar of veryunprepoffeffing appearance. ' Look here, what do you call this? ' 'An abnormal organifation,' faid the fcientific Butterfly. 'A nafty beaft,' faid the others. ' Heavens! ' exclaimed the Philofopher, ' the obtufenefs and arrogance of thefe crea tures! No, my poor friend,' continued he, addreffing the Caterpillar, 'difdain you as they may, and unpromifing as your afpeft certainly is at prefent, the time is at hand when you will prank it with the gayeft of them all.' ' I cry you mercy,' rejoined the Caterpillar fomewhat croflly, ' but I was digefling a goofeberry leaf when you lifted me

167 i 34 Philofopher and \ in that abrupt manner, and I did not quite follow your remarks. Did I underftand you to mention my name in conneftion with thofe flutterers?' ' I faid the time would arrive when you would be even as they.' ' I! ' exclaimed the Cater pillar, 'I retrograde to the Cater level of a Butterfly! Is not pillar the the Ideal of Creation imperfonated meafure of in me already? ' til things. 'I was not aware of that, replied the Philofopher, 'al though,' he added in a con ciliatory tone, 'far be it frorr me to deny you the pofleffion o many interefting qualities.' ' You probably refer to mj agility? ' fuggefted the Cater pillar, ' or perhaps to my abfte mioufnefs.'

168 the Butterflies.!35 ' I was not referring to either,' returned the Philofopher. ' To my utility to mankind? ' 'Not by any manner of means.' 'To what then?' 'Well, if you muft know, the beft thing about you appears to me to be the profpeft you enjoy of ultimately becoming a Butterfly.' The Caterpillar erefted himfelf upon his tail, and looked fternly at the Philofopher. The Philofopher's countenance fell. A thrum, darting from an adjacent tree, feized the oppor tunity and the infeft, and bore the latter away in his bill. At the fame moment, the fhower prognoflicated by the fage, burft forth, fcattering the Butterflies in all direftions, drenching the Philofopher, The end of the fable.

169 136 The Philofopher. Philofopher, whofe forefight had not aflumed the fhape of an umbrella, and fpoiling his new hat. But he had ample confolation in the fuperiority of his head. And the Caterpillar was right too, for after all he never did become a Butterfly. RICHARD GARNETT.

170

171 \ \

172 SELKIRK and The Yarrow. T LEFT the city of our Scott, And Princes Street with all its fafhion, The light that fell was warm and fweet And full of fummer's fofteft paffion. The huge black engine thundered on Along its gleaming way fo narrow ; The ringing wheels beneath my feet Sang, ' Ho! for Selkirk and the Yarrow.' On either fide upon the fields The frefh young corn was fweetly growing, And poppies waving in the wind, In all their red delight were blowing. While

173 138 Selkirk and the Tarrow. While nearer on the floping bank, The broom its brighteft tints did borrow, But ftill I heard the engine's fong, ' Ho! ho! for Selkirk and the Yarrow!' The hedges wore their fweeteft green, The trees ftood deep in ample fhadows ; And filver where the funfhine fell The ftreams went tinkling through the meadows. The white clouds trailing in the fey Stood ftill a moment in their winging, To hear beneath the glorious lark Shake all the fpaces with his finging. But ftill above all fights and founds, The carriage with its fleepy fwaying, The roar and grind of wheel on rail, The whiftle for each fignal playing, Above

174 Selkirk and the Tarrvw. ' 39 Above them all 1 heard this fong Rife from our ringing way fo narrow, ' Ho, ho, for Galafhiels, and then To Selkirk and the haunted Yarrow! ' By woods and meadows rich to fee, And banks where wilding flowers did fcatter Their ever fimple hues, we faw The windings of the Gala Water. And further on, the claffic Tweed Became its ftately rufhing marrow, But ftill the fong within my ear Was 'Ho, for Selkirk and the Yarrow!' Far down within the woods we faw A fingle peep, then all was over The Camelot, in whofe facred halls Romance's fairy fpirits hover, And tip with light the Eildon Hills, Until in fancy all the glory Becomes a fun to lend each peak The magic of the Wizard's ftory. And

175 1 40 Selkirk and the Tarrow. And I fhall look on Yarrow ftream, Shall Men to its tender flowing, Shall fit and dream by Newark Tower, And drink thefilence upward growing ; Shall think of fongs fung long ago, Old legends born of love and forrow, Shall live one day within the paft, And dream of Selkirk and the Yarrow. ALEXANDER ANDERSON.

176 ,

177

178 From YARROW to Edinburgh College When the Century was young. cott, am Mafter of the Olde Cartwright Dule (Dole), familiarly named the Olde Dule, an ancient Puritan Foundation. It was endowed in honour of Thomas Cart wright

179 142 When the Century wright Margaret Profeffor of Divinity at Cambridge in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, who, for the bold fetting forth of his principles, fuffered hardfhip and imprifonment. He found refuge on the Continent, where he became the friend of grave fcholars and divines ; and of him Beza, the all-taftful, the erudite, the witty, wrote : ' I think the fun doth not fee a more learned man.' To the Olde Dule other bequefts have fallen in, notably that of ' The Pleafaunce Field, and the two fair orchards bordering on the king's highway, which goeth to Chelfea.' This ground is now all covered with ftreets and houfes. It was bequeathed by a contemporary and compatriot of George Heriot, the founder of

180 was young. of the Hofpital in Edinburgh, on condition that, other matters being equal, the Mafter or Warden of the Dule fhould be a Scotfman. By this bequeft, in thefe later days the revenue of the Dule has benefited greatly. It is not unwealthy: it gives modeft penfions, with or without refidence, to 'fix olde Scholars to whom the World hath been fadde ; ' and it pofleffes a fchool not unfamed in the varied hiftory of Noncon formity, and efpecially favoured by pupils of Scottifh parentage in London. I have grown very old at my work within its walls, and every day it becomes more plain to me that, though I live with the prefent gene ration, I am not of it. My affiftant and fucceffor has relieved and purposes thereof.

181 144 When the Century Touching the author's prefent way of life. Thoughts of an auto biography. relieved me of the heavier duties, and I fit now more than ever in my own library the inmoft recefs of the feries of book-rooms which belong to the Foundation. This room is warm-hearthed, low-roofed, black-beamed, deep-windowed, heavy-doored, and oak-pan elled in the places where books are not ; thefe fpaces are few. My books are all melved within hand-reach. Of a furety it was a Philiftine an enemy to thought and to learning who invented high book-ranges. Every man mould be meafured for his own book -height, as he is for his own clothes.. Some thoughts have come,to me as to writing an autobiography, but it will never be completed. There is no call of duty to urge to

182 was young. i45 to it, and the fear perhaps the morbid fear of the over-ufe of the word ' I ' hinders me. This is an age of committees i The and commiffions, of editorials,!prefent and of partnerfhips, prefumably \an age of even in ideas, and confequently partnerthere is a decay of individuality \jbips. of charafter, and of thought. Though not in the fenfe that Tennyfon meant it, it is true of the times that ' The individual withers, and the world is more md more.' There is fomerhing both of cowardice and arefumption in the everlafting ive. Literary felf-confciouflefs has engendered a difeafe rf moral autophobia, for 'I' s the one word that humanity \as in common with Godhead evealed the ' J Am that I Am ' f the burning bum in Horeb. I

183 When the Century I was interrupted here by one of our boys, who came up to bid me good-bye. He leaves on what is now prac tically a travelling fcholarfhip, but was originally ftyled 'a fufficiency for one year's refidence at Geneva, Leyden, or fuch other Univerfity beyond the fea, where, in the honeft opinion of the Trufters, the fcience of found divinity is taught in the Latin tongue.' It is needlefs to fay that feledlion on either point has narrowed itfelf in thefe days into a grim impoffibility. Under the difficulty, the Trufters remitted to the Warden to give a found word of caution at leave-taking which word I hafled to fay thus :

184 was young. thus : ' Keep your eyes open, my lad, on the book of the world, as well as on the world of books. Keep your life pure. Keep the thought of Heaven in your heart, and a bit of home befide it. God blefs you good-bye.' We parted at the lower ftaircafe, and as I came back to my room, it feemed to me, fomehow, as if I had parted from myfelf in my far-off youth, for with one of thefe touches of unaccountable refemblance, the eyes feemed thofe of one whom I had ' loved long fince and loft a while.' ***** Go to, it is very hard work to be idle. Let me do fomething. I will write fomewhat of my far-off youth and the old

185 148 When the Century old times. Let me not hurt the feelings of the living by being untender to the memory of the dead. I can keep the Ego in fhadow, and my nephew and executor, the new Mafter, mall be charged not to publifh unlefs he fee good caufe. Yarrow. ' For I was reared among the hills, Within a Border home. ' There are memory piftures on the canvas of every man's life that Time's 'effacing fingers' cannot touch. The dark fhadows of the years that have no record in them we have all fuch years throw certain days into marked re lief give, in faft, powerful Rembrandt effedls of light in darknefs

186 was young. 149 j darknefs, foft with wiftful pleafure, or lurid with pained remorfe. Every detail is etched in. Like the nightworkers, bufy before the vaft furnaces in our black, brave, Iron Land, not a hand under the glare can be moved or an eye upturned unnoted or unfeen. The years of the century When were few when I left home George to become a ftudent in the the Tbira Edinburgh Old College. The was King. day that had looked fo far off and fo pleafant when afar off when I was a boy at fchool was to dawn to-morrow. My box was away (we called it a ' kift ' in Yarrow) ; it was Ptepara- made by the wright down at Philiphaugh, and it poflefled a fecret 'mottle' to hold my money,

187 150 When the Century! money, warranted to defy the coin-feeking inftinfts of the keeneft thief in Edinburgh. The Borders thought lightly of the morality of large towns once upon a time the cafe was entirely reverfed. I had feen this kift, packed by my mother's hand, fent off in a cart to Selkirk, to be in time for the weekly ingoing of the Edin burgh carrier. Unlefs when face to face with the exigencies of fnowftorms in which emergency all the fire of their hardfighting and hard-riding anceftors comes to the front, life on the paftoral farms of Yarrow falls on the molt placid and the moft pleafant of lines. But that day, to all at Shielhope, wore on to evening

188 was young. evening in every phafe of unreft the very dogs did not lie down, but fat on their haunches wondering, waiting eagerly waiting for the ufual fummons tofympathifeandhelp. The ' Reading ' came; the paraphrafe, 'O, God of Bethel,' was fung (there were ftill the thin brown feparate books for the paraphrafes in ufe with us in Yarrow), my father giving out the line in the reverend flately Scottifh chant. I hear yet the found of tears, in his ufually firm voice, as he prays in the old words of the patri arch ' The Angel that de livered me from all evil, blefs the lad : from the utmost bound of the everlafting hills let bleffings be on his head, and on the crown of the head of him that On the eve ofde parture.

189 When the Century is feparate from his brethren!' I awaken as if from a dream. I look over the large houfehold kneeling, in the warm light of the great kitchen peat fire : the thought that this will be here to-morrow night, and the next night, and on and on, and that I shall be abfent, drifts into my heart with a pang; but I note, too, that Luathie, the old collie, has, at laft, rifen from his place, and is licking my father's hand. The morning came a beautiful morning in late autumn. The fimple fare wells are fpoken; there was little of effufivenefs in old Border manners. 'I am glad ye are ridin', laddie,' faid my mother ; and, as me fpoke, me pafled

190 "was young. patted her hand over my hair. What true fon does not know that touch of a mother's hand? 'Ay, mother, and hoo niony will be fettin' oot on foot the day! ' was all the anfwer that fpeech ventured upon. My father was to accompany me to Selkirk to give inftruftions concerning the bringing back of my horfe, and, as he faid, to fettle me into the journey. We rode away. There was a flight froft on the ground. It had been a late harveft, and a fore one to the arable farmer, but that morning it feemed as if the repentant fun was bent on flooding a double radiance of light on hill and ftream ; and every bufh, tree, and meadow fwathed in net work of filver goftamer, looked quietly

191 i54 When the Century quietly up as if rejoicing in his beams. We met no man, and we heard no found fave the click-click of our horfe's feet, till we ' Faffed where Newark's ftately tower Looks out fromyarrow's birchen bower,' The robin's fong. when a robin broke the ftillnefs of the morning, and poured forth his foul in fong. It feemed as if the filence was pleafed, and the folitary place made glad. Involuntarily we both paufed, and I turned and looked back. It was not as the 'Dowie Dens ' that I was leaving the familiar fields, but as the ' bonny howms o' Yarrow,' and Robin's fong was the voice of hopefulnefs and cheer. I would note, and if I

192 ivas young. I ftray at times from the high way of my life-ftory, the gentle reader muft pardon the wander ings of an old man, who has ever had a longing for byeways and fliaded paths, I would like to note here that old ballad and recent fong, ancient minftrel and modern poet, dwell on this peculiarity of fong richnefs in the birds of Yarrow. To this day, when returning a comparative ftranger, this feature has ever been one of pleafurable and con tented furprife. To me the notes of the fouthern nightin gale do not equal thofe of the lark in the upper valleys near St. Mary's Loch. It is this fky-lark's fong ' far up in the downy cloud,' above Blackhoufe, on the Douglas Burn the Song richnejs in the birds of Yarrow.

193 156 When the Century The family of the famous Mungo Park. the home-land of the old Black Douglases that was ringing in the ears of Hogg when he penned that fined of lyrics: 'Bird ofthe wildernefs, Blithefome and cumberlefs, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! Emblem of happinefs, Bleft is thy dwelling-place ; O to abide in the defert with thee! ' For the ten happieft years of his life he herded there with the father of Willie Laidlaw the author of Lucy's F/ittin', each and all our good kindly neighbours further up Yarrow. In pafling Newark we paffed Foulfhiels, where 'the Auld Miftrefs ' the mother of Mungo Park, alfo his wife and her bairnies three were paffing the weary days in anxious waiting

194 was young. waiting for tidings from our own African explorer ; but long years had to pafs before the fore hunger of fufpenfe was to be changed into the certainty of forrow. ' Ride quickly by, John,' faid my father; 'I'll look in as I gang back. I hope the auld Miftrefs winna- fee us paffing, for folk's thochts aye rin back to their ain, and it juft looks like yefterday when Mungo went away in to the College like yerfel' the day. It was in ccnty-nine, if I mind richt, and a fair dour winter it turned oot.' Down we rode paft the woods of Bowhill, glowing in the funlight, but telling in their ruflet barenefs that the year was growing old, and foon we reached Selkirk. The The tale of the trees.

195 I58 Tibbie Elliots good-bye. When the Century The carrier's carts had left the afternoon before, but the carrier's guidwife Tibbie Elliot came to the door to fay a kindly word of good fpeed. ' The orders about the horfe I fee ye are riding, Captain,' faid fhe, ' hae been wi' us mony a day, but laft Sabbath, after the fkailin' o' the meetin'-houfe, the Miftrefs gied me a' the inftrudlions ower again while the cairt was yokin'. And,' continued me, addreffing me, ' ye are to gang ftraight to the Candlemaker Raw, to oor quarters, and Wat himfel' has promifed to take ye fafe to Jiddin (Gideon) Johnftone's. The Sinton cairts are away in to the Loudons this morning for the winter coals, and they are giein' a caft to a

196 was young. 159 bit fine ftudent lad frae Afhkirk black-a-vifed, no very ftronglooking. And John, lad,' added me, looking pawkily at me, ' ye '11 hae to fpeak me fair ; your mother is to leave your letters wi' me on the Sabbath mornins, and I will fee that they are fent fafe. The Poftoffice folk are gey gleg, and the Biggar carrier, that pits up The rural alangfide o' Wat, was fair fined Post. laft Candlemas. But I have ftitched oor Wat's under-waiftcoat back a' oot into parks, ilka ane wi' a buttoned flap. I pit twae three letters into each, and Wat fays, what wi' mothers' letters and fweethearts' letters, he 's aye weel happit ahint. And mind ye, Maifter Tibbie's John,' me added firmly I had advice. never been named ' Maifter '

197 16o When the Century before, but I regarded the change as a natural recognition of my new dignity as ftudent ' Mind ye, no that I think ye the ane to dae it mind ye, never to fend a compleenin' or a wheengin' meflage hame. The minifter fays that the eagle fhakes up her neft to gar her young anes gang oot to fend for themfel's, and dootlefs it is a' neceflary, and the way o' the world ; but, lorn me! the firft bird that leaves the hame neft is a fair heart baith to them that bides and them that bouns, and far waur when it is the youngeft that has to gang firft and far. Guidbye.' We left. At Stow my father parted from me. He returned home, and I fet my face to the outer world and my own future. Up

198 was young. 161 Up Gala Water. My journey was eventlefs. I met the Carlifle Royal Mail, fole public conveyance between Edinburgh and that town by way of Selkirk, Hawick, and Langholm. I alfo met the Kelfo Fly, which in winter ran twice a week, and ftarted from the White Horfe Inn in the Canongate. There were three paffengers in the firft coach, and only one in the fecond. I met and alfo pafled long trings of carriers' carts, to which, on the Gala Water roads, both old and new, was then relegated the tranfport of the infant manufaftures of the Border diftrifts confifting of linen fully as much as of wool len Carriers' Carts.

199 162 When the Century An amufing way bill. len goods. They alfo carried the overplus of farmyard pro duce, which naturally gravi tated to the capital. Very varied indeed, I may notice, was the return load of thefe douce, honeft vehicles fagacity itfelf as regards man, horfe, and ftowage. To all Scotland not on seaboard, the carrier's cart then was the fole inland importer. I quote the following from a very homely way-bill or rather a way-book : '3 chefts tea (confignees various), a crate of glafs, another of pans and kettles, a bride's filver teafpoons, a cafe of sherry wine, another of train-oil, a bale of Edinburgh fhawls, a hogfhead of fugar, 2 wigs, a grate, 2 Leghorn bonnets,' deftinec doubtlcfi

200 was young. 163 doubtlefs to extinguifh all country-conftrufted head-gear ; and laft, but not lead important, three parcels of books, with a few weekly newfpapers, then, as regards fize, and certainly as regarded independent thought, alfo in their infancy. The career of a newfpaper going up Yarrow in thofe days, after being read in Selkirk, was a hiftory in itfelf, from the time that the Miftrefs of Foulfhiels, fitting in the ' kirk cairt,' deponded it in her ample fidepocket, in order, me avowed, ' to keep folk oot o' temptation till the morn's morning,' till it came back at the clofe of the week to Yeben Currie at the fmithy, who, with the view to eventual proprietorfhip, elefted to be the lateft reader. As Career of a news paper in Yarrow.

201 164 When the Century As to books, I remember as if it were yefterday the arrival of Sir Walter Scott's firft poem, and how it the Shirra's new book, that glorified our Yarrow was read aloud, and only finished at midnight. It was in the fpring of 1 805, the year after the Falfe Alarm, when the Borders were in the full after-glow of patriotifm and high-heartednefs evoked by that rekindling of the old bale-fires. Even in my journey to College this latter event had its fhare. I did not ftop at any of the inns on Gala Water, but waited till I got to Dalkeith. That town had been, and ftill continued to be, the appointed rendezvous of the Selkirkfhire Yeomanry^' The Duke's Benty-neckit Troop ;' and at the Crofs

202 was young. 165 CrofsKeysInn I thought it right that Captain fhould get his corn, becaufe there he had got his name for having fpanned foremoft in that fwift Twinging tar morning ride, of which, as a Selkirkfhire man, I am proud even to this day. My firft fight of Edinburgh was by lamp-light oil lamps, it is true but the fight was wonderful to me. I difmounted, led Captain by the bridle, and, by civil anfwers to perfiftent aflcing, at length arrived at the comfortable inn of Mrs. Paterfon, in the Candlemaker Row. That worthy dame was alfo owner of the Jedburgh Coach, and, as I came to the door, was engaged in booking an infide paflage for Dr. Somerville, FirJIJight of Edin burgh. Mrs. Paterfon'i Inn.

203 1 66 When the Century Concern ing that worthy dame. ville, the well-known minifter and social hiftorian of that parifh, who, moved by courtefy, not perhaps untinftured with the senfe of expediency was ftanding bare-headed, hat in hand, before her. Of a certainty no Salique law ob tained in that inn. I found her afterwards to be an auto crat of the very beft kind, ruling houfe and ftables, manfervants and woman-fervants ay, and the ftrangcr within her gates by virtue of an adaptable manner, a kindly heart, fnell fayings, and a very firm hand. With Charlie Elliot Wat's fon and chief affiftant I went and faw Captain put up in the long, warm inn ftable. I will not fay that my eyes were exaftly dry

204 nvas young dry as I gave a ' hiddlins ' clap to his bonny grey mane. After a fell feint at eating fome food, I fet out with Wat himfelf for my own new quarters. Barringer's Close. i My deftination in Edinburgh The was a houfe at the foot of Author'* Barringer's Clofe one of the deftina many clofes or lanes on the tion. north fide of the High Street, between the North Bridge and Leith Wynd. The neighbourhood of Paterson's Inn in Candlemaker Row has been transformed in the changes caufed by the ereftion of George IV. Bridge, in 1836 ; and our road that evening was along the Cowgate, and up

205 i68 Of two comfortablefolk. When the Century up Blackfriars Wynd to the High Street. Wat carried a fmall lantern, and talked bufily but quietly all the way, mixing warning as to the dangers attending youth in city life with information concerning the antecedents ot Jiddin and Janet Johnftone. Jiddin and Janet, he told me, were elderly folk, and mair than comfortable as to world's gear. Jiddin originally came from the Hawick airt. As a boy he had mown an early genius for mechanics and drawing, and his father a farm grieve 'a very forejichty man,' remarked Wat, ' had bound him prentice to the wrycbt trade at Selkirk.' This was an eafy matter, as in thofe days apprentices and un married

206 "was young. married journeymen were boarded and lodged by their employers. He had then gone to Edinburgh, and worked with Janet's father the Deacon of the Wrights ' landlord of his ain houfe, and others forbye, and a pompous body ; but, lorn me, the man was a Deacon! ' Jiddin and Janet had drawn up, and, queried Wat, ftoutly ' What for no? ' The old man, how ever, was obdurate, and would liften to neither fenfe nor reafon. They had waited fourteen years ' as lang,' faid Wat, ' as Jacob waited for As Jacob Rachel ; but fourteen years waitedfor is a larig time oot o' a body's Rachel. pilgrimage when you havena a patriarch's lang life to fa' back on.' They

207 1 7o When the Century A bairn's requefti They were married at laft, and to the middle-aged people was born one daughter. They named her Marion, the ' bonnieft bairn and the gentieft' that Wat had ever feen. 'She had fie truthfu' een quiet-like, ower thochtfu' for a bairn, and as deep and as blue as a loch far away among the hills.' One day he had aflced her what he would fetch her from Selkirk, and me had anfwered, 'Some red-cheekit gowans.' Wat had fetched her the gowans, and had found her ill, but able to fmile up at him, and clap his big brown hand with her ' wee white feel fingers.' The illnefs deepened into fcarlct fever ; the diseafe feized on the throat, and me died. Many weeks later,

208 was young. later, Janet had come with a little pitcher. She wanted fome gowan-roots from the fame place, ' and,' faid Wat, 'weel I kent what they were for. Ay, ay,' he added, 'that's a' by ten years fyne, and the world has gane weel wi' Jiddin Johnftone. He does naething noo but draw, and look after other folk workinv ' He cam' oot laft fimmer wi' the Duke's Chamberlain to Bowhill about fome wark, and he ftayed wi' us. Charlie and he bufled fome hooks and went off to the fifhin' thegither. He came back at nicht jifl un common bricht, that his hand hadna forgot its cunning and, fpeakin' o' flee-hooks, it is an everlaftin' meeracle to me hoo fifhin' does hearten up a fimer. and her mother's. Howfjhing can hearten up afjher.

209 I72 For their common weal. When the Century fifher. Janet, he faid, was very weel, but unco quiet. He is brother's bairn to Tibbie, fae fhe minded that I was to feek an up-pittin for you ower againft November ; and then fhe point-blank aflced if it wouldna be as guid for Janet as it would be for you, that ye fuld bide wi' them. He faid little at the time, but the next week, when I got back to the town, Janet came ower yinceerrand to fay, that fhe would like ye to come, as it would be company for Jiddin, and that ye could fee at leaft how things forgathered, to the end o' the year ; and I think Tibbie has done a guid turn on the quiet baith to you and to them. I bargained that ye were aye to hae your ain room.

210 was young. room. Jiddin is a wee thing peremptor; but Janet is bias canny, deft-handed, and grand at auld-warld ftories, if ye want to crack, not to fay, for yae moment,' added Wat loyally, ' that me could ftand in oor Tibbie's moon, to ferve and pleafure the public ; but ye ken at leaft ye '11 ken by and by that there are diverfities o' gifts among women, as weel as among apoftles. I would fay, however, that Janet is jift the kind o' woman to be aboot a hoofe, when a man wants to read buiks, and has to make his livin' by it.' Here we crofled the High Street, and entered Barringer's Clofe. When half-way down, the noife of a window opening attrafted the attention of my guide, Old Edin burgh by night ;

211 When the Century guide, who inftantly fhouted, ' Haud yer hand! ' and held up his lantern. ' Folk hae nae richt,' he explained, ' to fling onything oot afore the beat o' the High Street drum at ten o'clock. If onybody is wilfu' thereoot after that, he maun juft take what 's flung at him, fo mind and keep elders' hours ; for if cleanlinefs is next to godlinefs, I am perfeftly fure that dirt is next to the deevil. I faw ye wonderin' at my bit bowat as we cam away,' he continued. 'It is true aneuch that the main ftreets o' the toun are brawly lichtit nae place in the warld better but catch Wat Elliot ganging doon yin o' thir clofes after dark without a lantern, though I got into the way o' ufin' it for

212 was young. for readin' the addrefles on parcels. ' Here 's the flair-fit,' con tinued he, 'it is a newel flair let me gang firft wi' the licht, or ye micht as weel try to climb Minchmoor at midnicht. The hoofe is on the fifth ftory a fine hoofe when ye are yince up intil't. It has the grandeft view frae the far end windows. Ye fee the Calton Craigs comin' wi' yae fweep doon to the Nor' Back and then there's the College Kirk, and Leddy Glenorchy's Kirk, and the Orphan Hofpital, and the Trinity Hofpital, wi' the auld wifies baskin' oot in the fun in the fimmer-time, wi' their white toy mutches on. And there's Canal Street, where canal never cam', let alane the A houfe on the fifthftory.

213 When the Century the auld Pheefic Gairdens. They flitted a' the flowers and trees away to Leith Walk, ayont Gayfield, afore my day and the place is jift a howlin' wildernefs but there's bonny gairdens at the fit o' the clofe, wi' apple and pear trees in them. Sergeant Gould gies the awkward fquad o' the Volun teers a bit leffon there on the quiet, at the back o' his ain hoofe though deil a bit o' quiet there 's aboot it. I heard him, and a' the Nether Bow could hear him, roarin' like a bull o' Bafhan. I looket oot o' Janet's kitchen window, and there was the Sergeant, wi' his famous bonfire nofe, drillin' weel, we '11 no Jay prpvofts and profeltors nor even mint at the goons they wear " Speak

214 was young. "Speak not evil o' dignities," fays the apoftle, only they didna feem to ken their richt hand frae their left, nor even what end they were ftannin' on. Short men, John, a yaird acrofs the back, wi' corporations con form, fhould never take to fodgerin' but, oh man, that het day they were willin', willin'. Guid as the view oot o' the windows is yet, it's naething to what it was yince,' added Wat; 'the Deacon Janet's faither was aye wild at the buildin' o' the North Brig let alane the Mound for ftiuttin' him in frae the weft. In his young days he ufed to fee the fun fet a' the way up the Nor' Loch. ' It is a clean flair,' continued Wat, as we progrefled in our afcent, Regard ing certain disqualifi cationsfor a martial life.

215 Some very refpectable neigh bours. When the Century afcent, ' and they are a' mair than fponfible folk that bide in it. Bailie Smith leeves below, but he enters frae Chalmers' Clofe on the other fide. Auld " Kinky," the writer, leeves on the tap flat. Folk fay he is the beft teller o' a ftory in a' the Parliament Clofe, and that is no fayin' little, mair ways than yin. Twae auld leddics real leddies Leddy Betty Pringle and Mifs Mally Murray ftay but and ben, on the fame ftair-head wi' Jiddin, and are his tenants. My faither ufed to tell that he rode, as fervin'-man, ahint Mifs Mally when me cam' in to Edinburgh the year afore the '45. I whiles bring them in compliments o' muirfool fent frae the Haining, and even frae Arnifton itfel'.' At

216 was young. 179 At the top of the fifth flight of this turnpike ftair fimilar in conftruftion to the flairs in the peel towers on the Border Wat at length paufed, and The new tirled at the rifp. The door quarters. was opened, and we were pleafantly and quietly wel comed by the matter and miftrefs of the houfe. To this day I can recall every detail of the apartment into which we entered. I ufe the word apartment advifedly, for I never could fettle whether it was a kitchen that was a room, or a room that was a kitchen ; it fuggefted the eafe and the comforts of both. It was fairly-fized, warm, very light in contraft with the darknefs which we had left, faultlefsly clean, and gave one the impreffion

217 18o When the Century impreffion, from its quaint furniture, and its wealth of fhip-cabin-like conveniences, that it had been long in the in telligent occupation of ingeni ous and artiftic handicraftsmen. Some other time I may write about its details, but that night I only watched Janet's face from the light given by the carrier's ftory. It was a fine face, firm, and not with out dignity in the look of the fteady, quiet eye a face which told of forrow and endurance which had ended, not in fretfulnefs, but in a large fympathy with the forrows and, rarer ftill, with the joys of all around. The converfation was prin cipally carried on by Jiddin and Wat. The latter, however, foon

218 was young. 181 foon rofe, for he had bufmefs, he faid, with Bailie Smith, round in the next clofe. A pair of wrought-iron gates were to be taken out to the South country, would Jiddin come with him, and give his fuggeftions as to car riage? After they left, Janet mowed me the room that was to be mine, faying, ' We kent you were to be here the nicht, and your mother will be miffing you fair at hame. I put on a fire ; it feels like a friend in a ftrange place. And this is where you fleep,' me added, opening a door ; * the clofet only holds a bed it is what we town's-folk call an "ootfhot," but it has a wee hinged window placed high up. You can look up at the ftars above the Calton Hill wi' your head upon The author is Jhown his room.

219 182 When the Century A mixed vernacu lar. upon the pillow ; but you had better "reft ye " ye '11 be tired, and the morn 's before ye. Guid-nicht.' Perhaps I fhould note here that the old Deacon had given to Janet his only child all the Englifh education that Edin burgh in the eighteenth century could give to a woman. Some times me fpoke the Nether Bow vernacular of her childhood ; at others me ufed the Englifh of her girlhood, foftened, however, by a Scottim accent daintily fweet, and the ufe of expreffive Scottifh words, a language which, though mixed, falls foftly on the ear from old lips. I left all varieties of this mixed tongue in educated Edinburgh ; doubtlefs they may abide there unto this day. The

220 was young. The College. The next day I matriculated as an Arts ftudent in the Univerfity, and joined the clafs of Profeffor (Alexander) Chriftifon in Latin, and in Greek that of Profeffor Dunbar. At that time the College, as a building, was neither the Col lege of the paft, nor yet that of the prefent day. It was in a ftate of tranfition. Part of the quadrangle had been built after the original defign by Adam ;* but on the fouth fide was a row of old houfes, one ftory and * There is in the Eaft Book Room of the Olde Dule a prefentation copy of 'The Works in ArchiteSure of R. and J. Adam, London 1773,' infcribed with the names of both Robert and James Adam. Alfo a framed drawing of the Adelphi Buildings in half Matricu lation. The college buildings ofthofe days.

221 1 84 When the Century half high, with ftorm windows, which in all probability had feen the day of Principal Rollock. At the very entrance to the quadrangle was the old library, which, befide its flately furroundings, looked like an old country houfe that had ftrayed and loft its way. A flock of ftarlings built their nefts among the unfinifhed pedi ments, and both profeflbrs and ftudents fed them with bits of bread. I ufed to get corn for them from Charlie Elliot every week when I went to the Candlemaker Row. The birds had grown wife, and knew their feeding-time, and came down then with a fwift rufh, the Strand, which, being the defign o both brothers, was named Adelphi in their honour. much

222

223

224 'was young. 185 much the fame as the pigeons do at the Guildhall, and in the great fquare of St. Mark at Venice, to this day. As to my own feelings, it is ufual (in books efpecially) for a young ftudent, as he enters the Univerfity gates, to have lofty afpirations, high refolve, and glowing thoughts as to work and fame in the far-off future. To me thefe came in certain fafhion after a feafon, and I pity the old age withered, duft-dried, foffilifed of a man whofe youth has never known the light of that vernal land on which no madow falls, ' Where younger heart nurfed larger hopes Of bounties that the years should bring, Nor dreamed of all the care and all the warfarins.' But

225 1 86 When the Century Of the utter lonelinefs of Edin burgh Student life. But the firft weeks of my life in Edinburgh College chill me yet with a memory of utter lonelinefs. I did not know a living being within its walls. The maffive ftone-work numbed my very foul. The filence of the hills I had left was full of voices to me, but the roar of the city, with its crowded life, gazing at me with eyes that always looked paft mine, was wordlefs and dumb. Work remained, and I did work, for I belonged to a race that had worked on the fquare, the fquare! rather on the cube. And yet, many might fay (I faid it foundly to myfelf ) that my lot was favoured. A thrifty fuffi ciency, as regards money a leaft, was mine not the nar row means of others. How narrow

226 was young. 187 narrow how very, very nar row I have known thofe means to be! It would have been better if that firm bargain as to a feparate room had been left unfpoken, for that room's filence in that quiet houfe grew almoft tangible. In my opinion and remembrance, this poffible ifolation is the one weak point the Achilles' heel in the otherwife bracing fyftem of Scottifh College life. Its endurance has made me tender all my days with the lonefome. I remember, even as Mofes did when he named his firft-born Germom, that I alfo have been a ftranger in a ftrange land. But the weather changed, and brought changes. A fnowllorm fet in towards the end of December. The mepherd meteorologifts The weak point in the fyftem.

227 188 When the Century meteorologifts of the Borders recognifed four kinds of fnowflakes Harefoot, Birdwing, Poppler and Sparevvil. If the firft fnowftorm of the year was Harefoot, it betokened the ftorms of an old-fafhioned winter. Harefoot flakes had fallen on Edinburgh College all night and all morning, and, though the fun had blinked out, it was evident that more fnowflakes were coming. I ftood that day on the pave ment, and was in the acl of placing my clafs-books and Sir John Mandeville's Lands in the ' neuk ' ofmy shepherd's maud, when I faw a ftage-coach come in fight, driving heavily. It pafled the College entrance, when, as if by concerted fignal, while the guard blew a long

228 was young. 189 long, loud, defiant blaft on his horn, the outfide paflengers delivered a volley of fnowballs into the crowd of ftudents who were thronging out of the gate. It was a fhort-fighted aftion, for fnowball ammunition on the top of a ftage-coach is neceflarily limited. Another moment, and the llreet was darkened by the return charge, fnow balls from behind, and fnow balls in front, fnowballs to the right, and fnowballs to the left. The guard's hat went far over the horfes' heads, and the head-gear of the coachman and of the paflengers followed in various purfuit; the glafs windows were broken; a vociferating vifage, purple of hue, was feen for one moment, to difappear the next, and ball after

229 When the Century after ball went into the holes of the broken glafs with a precifion, a fwiftnefs, and a glee, thrilling to the heart of a marksman. The coachman held to his reins, and it was fortunate the horfes had much of the fpirit taken out of them with the heavy roads. In a wild way he tried to lafh out with his whip : but it was no ufe. The enemy was everywhere in full purfuit, and the coach of the defiant blaft, with its foolifh freight, pafled the Tron Church bruifed, broken, bat tered and beaten. Joyoufly we turned back to find that matters had wondroufly developed in our abfence, and, as we reached the College, the air feemed almoft thick with fnowballs. A battle royal was raging, and

230 was young. and this time againft mettle let me fay it now to the full as good as our own. It was the trades' dinner-hour ; and we faw them apprentices and young journeymen pour ing up from the Grafsmarket and the Cowgate, gathering their fnowballs and kneading them as they ran. Hitherto I had been fighting like David in Saul's armour ; but to run with my plaid and Sir John Mandeville into Mifs Swinton's a mantua-maker on the South Bridge, who long rejoiced in a good fouth-country conneftion, was but the thought and the action of a moment, and then I was back in the thick ofit, blood on fire, and every nerve tingling with a new, ftrange joy. The battle confifted ofcharges and

231 192 When the Century Concern ing Britain's martial greatnefs in thofe Jays. and counter charges as regards each main body. Once we were driven half-way up the quad rangle, and again we drove the enemy as far back as Hill Place, then in courfe of erec tion every man fighting with his whole heart and foul, and ftrength and hands. How could it be otherwife? Great Britain at that time was not only chal lenging all the hiftory of modern I nations, flie was paling and dwarfing even the deeds of I ancient Greece and Rome. I Nelfon was dead his Edin burgh monument had been finiflied that year on the Calton Hill but the glories of the Nile, and Copenhagen, and Trafalgar were a national in heritance. Wellington had but gone to the Peninfula, and already

232 was young. i93 already Vimiera and Talavera were the earneft of the Britifh army's glory and its leader's future. How immovably firm was our belief in both! Did not all the churches pray for the fuccefs of the Britifh arms, and were not the prayers anfwered, and did we not return and give God thanks! True, there was no other Samaritan among the nations particularly thank ful at that time; but we were honeftly grateful, and, in the beft way we could, tried to dry the orphan's tear and foothe the widow's woe. The country lived at high war-level, mili tant and exultant. All this was fuperadded to the normal inftinfts for fighting born in man, hence thefe fnowballs. In

233 194 When the Century Anxiety in the houfehold. In the meantime, as I after wards learned, grave fearchings of thought as to my non-appear ance had arifen at Barringer's Clofe. Jiddin had come home behind time, and out of forts ; fome of his people had not come in, owing to a 'college snaw-ba' bicker.' ' Maifter John will no be in it, furely,' faid Janet tentatively ; ' he is ower quiet.' 'What, Janet!' re joined Jiddin, 'it's ill to fay whae is quiet. When was he in? ' 'Aboot eleven o'clock,' anfwered Janet ; ' but he 's come o' ower guid folk ' ' Guid folkl'interjeftedjiddin. 'Whae fays that the guid and the godly canna fecht? Scottifh bluid is het, and Scottifh Border bluid, if onything, is hetter ; but wi' i waught o' the Covenant added ay

234 'was young. i95 ay, that fechtin' mixture mould be ftrong, and ftour, and dour. It makes a' the difference, Janet, my woman, when a man thinks he has got principle in his fword-arm, or even in his nieves. Onyhow the lad wouldna be the waur o' a bit makin'. What time was he to be back? ' ' He comes in regu lar after one o'clock,' anfwered Janet. 'And it is paft three noo,' rejoined Jiddin ; ' gie me my hat. Surely, ninny,' he added, 'ye dinna think that I 'm gaun to fecht at my time o' life, or take to fnaw-ba'in' get your ain four-hours ready, and I '11 fune fend him hame. " If ye take other folks' bairns into your bofom, they are fure to creep oot at your elbow," That proverb is true,' faid Jiddin, A true prwerb.

235 196 When the Century iddin, as he haftened down the ound-about flair. At the College, meanwhile, he fight was waging faft and 'urious. The merchants and hopkeepersinthe diftrifthadall jut on their mutters, and were peering out at the fight from the little windows above their doors a curiofity not without danger, for glafs was crafhing and jingling in all direftions. Again and again did our leader, Archie Biggar, filently elected but intuitively acknowledged make heavy onfet againft Portsburgh Tam ; and as often did Portfhurgh Tam, loin-girt with farrier leather apron, followed by his motley fquadrons a phalanx of eager-fet faces at white heat repel the aflault and return the charge. It was a very

236 was young. very Shim-Muir of bickers a drawn battle ; and doubtlef. would have ended as did tha memorable field, by each fide claiming the victory ' Some 6y that we wan ; Some fay that they wan ; And fome fay that nane wan at a', man, when, juft as darknefs was fetting in, the Town Guard appeared on the fcene. The city regiment, headed by Captain Burnet the greateft captain of the age (he weighed nineteen ftone) was received with a howl of execration from both fides, and fwift was the alliance that was made in prefence of the common foe. Archie and Portfburgh Tarn faced each right-about to the north, and flood fide by fide. Their followers promptly fol lowed ; Showing how foes may be come truftf illies. f

237 When the Century lowed ; but, juft as the firft ftorm of confederate fnowballs fell, I was feized by a firm hand. It was Jiddin. ' Maifter John,' faid he, 'you'll jift come hame.' 'The play is a' played oot that has a fhadow o' felf-refpeck in it. I have ftood near ye for the laft ten meenutes. I wadna affront ye afore your neebours as lang as it was a fair ftand-up fecht, but it's no for your faither's fon and a future minifter to mell wi' a Toon's Rat. They never fecht ftrecht. They dae naething but gie great clamhewits wi' their poleaxes, as if a human being was a fed ox. They think o' nae thing but o' takin' prifoners, and wi' them the weakeft aye gangs firft to the wa'. Look at

238 was young. 199 at that,' he added. I looked, and certainly faw two ablebodied foldiers carrying away a very fmall apprentice lad, whofe black, toufy, terrier-eyed face had that day been ubiqui tous, and who, game to the laft, had raifed his hand with a fnowball in it againft the majefty of the Chief Captain. I was refentful, and looked it; for Jiddin's words grew ftern. ' I am a law-abidin' citizen, Maister John,' he faid, 'and while you are under my roof and randle tree, you maun be the fame. Law is the glory of free men ; fules and flaves only are lawlefs. Janet fent me for you, fo come away. There's Profeffor Hamilton's chair comin' oot o' the Infirmary gate,' he added more Jiddin Jolnftone's counfel.

239 200 When the Century An urgent cafe. more pleasantly ; 'the chairmen are hurrying. We '11 slip door the High Schule Wynd ahint them, and get the licht o' their link, for the roads are like gless.' I followed not quickly. We found the wynd guarded, and entry barred by one of the town foldiers, who ordered us to turn back, and go by the main ftreet. 'You muft let me paft,' faid the Profeflbr ; ' I have to go to Clockmill Houfe it is an urgent cafe an exprefs meflenger has followedme here from myhoufe, the South Bridge is crowded there 's no time to lofe. Mr. Johnftone,' he continued, ' can you help me here? I really muft get paft.' ' Ye had better let the Doftor by ; fomebody's firefide is in peril,' faid Jiddin to the foldier j ' and ye ken ye 're

240 was young. 201 ye're breakin' an auld Scottifh law in flopping him. We will gang back if ye like, though I dinna fee what for.' Mean while, the chairmen edged round the fedan, and prepared to take the fituation with a rufh. The guard raifed the Lochaber axe to hinder ; it fell fortunately on its flat fide not on the ProfefTor, or on any of his proceffion, but on the broad fhoulders of Jiddin Johnftone! In one moment the obnoxious weapon was clattering down the froft-bitten caufeway; in another, the law-abiding citizen had grafped the guardian of the public peace, and thrown him heavily in true Bewcaftle ftyle. The Profeffor expreffed the moft rapid thanks. ' You are not hurt? no that is well but Jiddirts prattice differetb from his precept.

241 202 When the Century >ut not the lefs you have done this for me. Before I fleep to-night this wretched ftate of matters mail be laid before the Magiftrates and they fpeak to me of my ftudents! Good-bye, he added; 'meet me in the Exchange Square to-morrow, a little before ten o'clock. Now, Donalds, do your beft.' He hurried into his chair, and away went the men, half running, half fliding down the flippy wynd. We followed quickly. 'Jiddin,' I afked as we rounded the corner of Blackfriars Wynd, 'Jiddin, where did ye learn that grand fa'?' ' Lang fyne, when I was young,' was the anfwer. ' I feucht Rob Rivven (Ruthven) o' Yetholm three different years at the Hawick Common Riding

242 was young. 203 Riding till I fand it oot ; but I never thocht the auld Adam in me would ever make me fecht again or need it more.' ' The auld Adam,' I echoed ; ' the yauld Adam, ye mean, Jiddin!' for nothing delights young man hood more than unexpefted power in a trial of phyfical ftrength, and there are few elderly men who are not proud to retain the confcioufnefs of the prowefs of their youth. He left me at the head of the clofe. ' Tell nothing, good or ill, to Janet,' faid he ; ' I 'm gaun round to fee Bailie Smith about this bufinefs, and I may be late.' Fortunately, I found Janet occupied with houfehold trou bles; fome of the chimneyitalk gearing had been blown down in the ftorm. ' Can you ftudy A fortun ate mishap.

243 204 When the Century ftudy ben in the kitchen, Maifter John? ' fhe afked ; ' for naebody can have the heart to fend either tron-man or fclaiter to the roof till after the break o' the ftorm. Will the fpinningwheel no difturb ye? I never fpeak when Jiddin's thinking.' ' I will like it far better than ben the hoofe the now,' I anfwered. ' My mother fpins they all fpin at home. And as to fpeaking, I will work hard, and then we will have a reft ; you will tell me about Mary King's Clofe, or fome o' the Deacon's ftories about the Magdalen Chapel how the body of Argyll was fweeled in linen at the " deid o' nicht," and no one knew till the morning ; or how your father faw Prince Charlie ride through the Netherbow

244 was young. Bow Port.' ' That will I,' faid Janet, perfeftly fatisfied. ' And wae's me,' fhe added, ' there 's puir auld Mifs Mally ben the hoofe fhe danced wi' him that nicht at Holyrood, and has worn a lock o' his bonnie yellow hair round her neck, in a gar land brooch, a' the weary years fin fyne.' I fat down on the Deacon's armed refting-feat, by the fide of the wide fire-place, with the conviftion that I would ftay. This father of Janet's had been a keen antiquarian an authority as to ftories and traditions ; a gatherer of quaint fayings and queer proverbs, old bahads, and folk-lore. This literature takes a flrange hold on fome natures ; and to his bequeathed wifdom and chroni cles,

245 206 When the Century Tbefeque. to the fnoiofght. cles, given in Janet's words, I liftened on and on, all through my ftudent years, and went and looked again and again and often, at the ancient houfes, till the ftory of the old city became my own. Back to Tarrow. That fnowy evening, ' while a wild nor'-eafter blew,' many a worthy citizen was brought out from the bofom of his family to bail the delinquents. Next morning Profeffor Hamil ton kept his appointment with Jiddin, and with him came Principal Baird. The obftruction and the aflault with the Lochaber axe were defcribed to the authorities in grave colours. The refult was that a fevere reprimand was given (in

246 was young. 207 (in private) to Captain Burnet and the Town Guard. 'The Watch fhould offend no man ' was gracefully quoted from Shakefpeare by the Profeffor ; but sorely weighty and, as the later years mowed, not unprophetic were the words of magiflerial rebuke, ' If you and A magifterial yourmen, Captain Burnet, dinna mend your ways, it is plain to re buke. me in thefe days o' new-fangled Police Bills that the Auld Toun Guard o' Edinburgh will fune be deid and buried drinkin' its ain dirgie and you will only have yourfelves to blame!' This difgrace of the Town Guard helped the caufe of the ftudents and the trades' lads. It weaken ed the opponng evidence, and it has ever been my fufpicion that both the Profeffor and Jiddin aimed

247 208 When the Century aimed at this. It was proved inconteftably that the ftage-coach was the firft tranfgreffor ; and the original complainer the infide paffenger of the purple face did not appear. Under the circumftances all parties were difmifled with an admoni tion. The public admonition was dignified it was as the voice of Johnfon the Dictator, in its allufions to the eye of authority, the well-being of fociety, the paths of virtue, and the outraged dignity of the law. It was a fpeech kept in memory as good ftock, and frequently heard (with flight but fuitable alterations) in court and elfewhere in thofe days. Theafter wordsfpokenoffthe bench were more noteworthy. 'I/,' faid the worthy Bailie,

248

249

250 ***********************<> YOUTH. with the frank open face, * Youth with the fearlefs eye, Strength compafted with grace, Brave, and yet modeft, and fhy, Eager in fearch of the Truth, Staunch to ftand by the right, Confident, carelefs youth, Girding with joy for the fight! What would I give to be Young again now like you Breafting the fummer fea, Brufhing the early dew, Seeking the neftling birds, Fifliing the quiet ftream, Hearing the firft low words Whifpered in love's young dream? O for

251 2 1 6 Youth. O for the friends I had then, The walks and the keen debates Of books and of things and of men, And cities and churches and states! O for the vifions that grew From the lore of the ancient days, And the wonders that burft on our view Where fcience was guiding our ways! Ever-fweet fpring of our time, Searching the world with its roots, Breaking in leafage of rhyme, Wrapping in bloffom its fruits! What are the rich and the great Venal poets have fung? What is the pride of their ftate Compared with the wealthofthe young? Poffible triumphs of thought, Poffible fplendours of fame, Poffible glories that nought Ever may tarnifh with fhame : Poffible all unto you, Hope in the future hath seen Only be manly and true, And keep the heart pure and clean. WALTER SMITH.

252

253 Uff*

254 was young. 209 ' IF a' you lads, when you feel the fechtin' fit comin' on, would only gang doon to the auld bed o' the Nor' Loch the place yin would think had been or dained and drained for the very purpofe, and no flop the trade and traffic o' the toun wi' breakin' the peace, it is lang ere ony o' us would ever find faut. The Auld Toon and the New Toon callants hae fand it oot they paik yin another wi' flicks, and they peeble yin another wi' ftanes,and take their hearts' content o'pleefure there, and naebody but themfels is either the wifer or the waur. But,' he continued, turning from the late combatants, 'it is a vouchfafed mercy that things are as weel as they are. Had that wild M'Craw o' a Town Guard The fage and me morable words of the worthy Bailie.

255 210 When the Century Pleafaat days. The Seffion is ended. Guard cloured Dr. Hamilton, we could never hae held up oor face afore the world again.' Archie Campbell, the fagacioue and famed town officer, gravely fhook his head by way 'of general civic aflent to what admitted of no reply. So it all ended. And now it happened, after that fnowftorm, that the Edinburgh days patted pleafantly to me ; they bear no fpecial record. The fpring came, and the College feffion ended. I had no place in the regular clafs honours, but for an eflay on ' Cincinnatus ' 1 was awarded a prize ; ProfefTor Chriftison adding fome words of fpecial commendation to a defcription of paftoral hill fcenery, which the writer held was the fit home furrounding of

256 was young. 211 of ' men who would not fuffer their native foil to be fullied with the footprints of a foe.' The Profeffor himfelf had once been a herd-boy on the Lamnfermuir Hills. How very, large did this prize, and the fpecial words of praife, bulk in the eftimation of all the home folks at Shielhope! In Barringer's Clofe, Janet was pleafed, and Jiddin fatisfied. I walked home, as did three- Homelourths of the ftudents at that wards. time. With me went the iludent from Afhkirk, of whom A College Tibbie Elliot had fpoken that friend. morning when I left Selkirk. He and I had foon met when Seeking our refpeftive home letters at the carrier's. It was his firft year at College as it was mine, and he became my friend, and

257 212 When the Century Death's firft call. and I was his till College years were left behind. What that means in ftudent life let the aged remember, and let the young re joice in with the joy of youth. But he left me foon he fell on the very threfhold of a life of ufefulnefs, widening into fuccefs, and deepening in to true fame. It was my firft death-grief. Long years after, when Tennyfon's In Memoriam came, I leant my brow upon its pages, and gave thanks that a kindred forrow had found words to exprefs itfelf in fong to thofe whofe thoughts and yearnings and queftionings were dumb. But the problem itfelfre mains ; it will only find folution in God's own land, where I fhall know even as alfo I am known. It was the ftrange femblance of his eyes, feeming again to look into mine, as I parted from the lad at the foot of

258 'was young. 213 of the ftaircafe, that has led me to write of thefe old days. But there was no thought of death or forrow that glad fpring-time, when he and I tramped together joyoufly down Gala Water. We reached Selkirk in the even ing ; the next day he went to Afhkirk, and I went home to Shielhope, and heard again the found of Yarrow. * * * «* The found of Yarrow has never left me in all my wan derings, but it comes now not with its ftory of Spring, but with the ruftle of Autumn leaves, when thefe are few faying that the Summer is paft, and the Harveft is ended. Ifometimes wonder if the dead hear its voice as they lie in the reftful churchyard beneath the fhadow of the quiet hills. My people deep there, and there will I be buried. ALISON HAY DUNLOP. Still and ever of Yarrow.

259 CARLYLE. ARLYLE is ftrong to roufe by a tremen dous moral force, and to ftartle by vivid and ftriking piftures ; but he has neither wifdom to guide thofe whom he has roufed, nor fobriety to tone his piftures down to reality. He is fond of talking about veracity ; but he habitually revels in exaggeration, and onefided prefentation, which is more than half a lie. JOHN STUART BLACKIE.. BIAS.

260 'Bow's.' 219 Small was the fhop, and plain the fare You fee, we were not flufh of dollars ; You 'd laugh at what we ufed to wear Before the days of mafher collars ; Yet true and brave were fome of thofe Who munched their frugal cruft at Bow's.' How fcattered now! though they were then, If light in purfe, as light in fpirit, But fome have pafled from mortal ken, And fome have feized the palmofmerit ; Some wear the thorn, and fome the rofe, Who munched their frugal cruft at ' Bow's.' And, tefted thus by blank and prize, Fate ftill will mow the fame odd jumble Of likely men that fail to rife And halting fteps that never ftumble ; 'T will be with you, as 't was with thofe Who munched their frugal cruft at ' Bow's.' Yet

261 22O ' Bow's.' Yet not alone is life defigned Renown to win, or wealth to gather ; There 's right to fight for, truth to find, And work to do for others, rather Such were the aims of fome of thofe Who.munched their frugal cruft at ' Bow's.' Unlike, and yet how like withal, The generations come and vanifti! Forget not, in your flately hall, The love of eafe and ill to banifh, And thus you '11 more than rival thofe Who munched their frugal cruft at 'Bow's.' D.

262 Some College Memories. AM afked to write Pofcitnur. fomething (it is not fpecifically ftated what) to the profit and glory of my Alma Mater ; and the faft is I feem to be in very nearly the fame cafe witli thofe who addrefled me, for while I am willing enough to write fomething, I know not what to write. Only one point I fee, that if I am to write at all, it mould be of the Univerfity

263 College Memories. Univerfity itfelf and my own days under its fhadow ; of the things that are ftill the fame and of thofe that are already changed : fuch talk, in fhort, as would pafs naturally be tween a ftudent of to-day and one of yefterday, fuppofing them to meet and grow con fidential. The generations pafs away fwiftly enough on the high feas of life ; more fwiftly ftill in the little bubbling backwater of the quadrangle ; fo that we fee there, on a fcale ftartlingly diminimed, the flight of time and the fucceffion of men. I looked for my name the other day in laft year's cafe book of the Speculative. Natu rally enough I looked for it near the end ; it was not there, nor yet

264 College Memories. 223 yet in the next column, fo that I began to think it had been dropped at prefs ; and when at laft I found it, mounted on the fhoulders of fo many fucceffors, and looking in that pofture like the name of a man of ninety, I was confcious of fome of the dignity of years. This kind ofdignity of temporal preceffion is likely, with pro longed life, to become more familiar, poffibly lefs welcome ; but I felt it ftrongly then, it is ftrongly on me now, and I am the more emboldened to fpeak with my fucceflbrs in the tone of a parent and a praifer of things paft. For, indeed, that which they attend is but a fallen Univerfity ; it has doubtlefs fome remains of good, for human inftitutions

265 224 College Memories. Touching a ftrange feature of Univerjity decline. Of the "tojf laminftitutions decline by gradual ftages ; but decline, in fpite of all feeming embellifhments, it does; and what is perhaps more fingular, began to do fo when I ceafed to be a ftudent. Thus, by an odd chance, I had the very laft of the very beft of Alma Mater ; the fame thing, I hear (which makes it the more ftrange) had previously happened to my father ; and if they are good and do not die, fomething not at all unfimilar will be found in time to have befallen my fucceffors of to-day. Of the fpecific points of change, of advantage in the paft, of fhort-coming in the prefent, I muft own that, on a near examination, they look wondrous cloudy. The chief and far the moft lament able

266 AFTER PARTING: TO A FRIEND. LIKE one who gleans a bounteous field, And hears far off the parting wain, To whom the lonely furrows yield Rich armfuls of the golden grain ; So ftand I while the funfet dies, Nor follow with thy feet away, Till garnered in my memory lies Each happy word we fpoke to-day. To-morrow on fome neighbour hill We '11 ply the fickle fide by fide ; Till then I loiter, gleaning ftill, And thou art gone thy fheaf is tied. G. B. B.

267 BOW'S.' \fb undergrads, for whofe fweet fake * We toil, this year of fix-and-eighty, To rear a pile where you may take Your otium cum dignitate, Look not with lofty fcorn on thofe Who munched their frugal cruft at 'Bow's'! The place is gone, and in its ftead A broad new ftreet fweeps paft the College ; No more its fimple wares are fpread To tempt the fearcher after knowledge ; And middle-aged, I fear, are thofe Who munched their frugal cruft at 'BowV Small

268 College Memories. 225 able change is the abfence of a certain lean, idle, unpopular ftudent, whofe prefence was for me the gift and heart of the whole matter ; whofe changing humours, fine occafional purpofes of good, flinch ing acceptance of evil, fhiverings on wet, eart-windy, morn ing journeys up to clafs, infinite yawnings during lefture and unquenchable gufto in the delights of truantry, made up the funfhine and fhadow of my college life. You cannot fancy what you mifled in miffing him ; his virtues, I make fure, are inconceivable to his fucceffors, juft as they were apparently concealed from his contemporaries, for I was prac tically alone in the pleafure I had in his fociety. Poor foul, I enlable change for the author. The ugly ftudent and his virtues.

269 College Memories. I remember how much he was caft down at times, and how life (which had not yet begun) feemed to be already at an end, and hope quite dead, and misfortune and difhonour, like phyfical prefences, dogging him as he went. And it may be worth while to add that thefe clouds rolled away in their feafon, and that all clouds roll away at laft, and the troubles of youth in particu lar are things but of a moment. So this ftudent, whom I have in my eye, took his full mare of thefe concerns and that very largely by his own fault ; but he ftill clung to his fortune, and in the midft of much mifconduft, kept on in his own way learning how to work ; and at laft, to his wonder, efcaped out of

270 College Memories. 227 of the ftage of ftudentfhip not openly fnamed; leaving behind him the Univerfity of Edinburgh morn of a good deal of its intereft for myfelf. But while he is (in more Other fenfes than one) the firft regrets. perfon, he is by no means the only one whom I regret, or whom the ftudents of to-day, if they knew what they had loft, would regret alfo. They have ftill Tait, to be fure long may they have him! and they have ftill Tail's clafsroom, cupola and all ; but think of what a different place it was when this youth of mine (at leaft on roll days) would be prefent on the benches, and at the near end Of the of the platform, Lindfay fenior was airing his robuft old age.. elder Lindfay :

271 228 College Memories. his reminifcences. It is poffible my fucceflbrs may have never even heard of Old Lindfay ; but when he went, a link {happed with the laft century. He had fomething of a ruftic air, fturdy and frefh and plain ; he fpoke with a ripe eaft-country accent, which I ufed to admire ; his reminifcences were all of journeys on foot or highways bufy with poft-chaifes a Scotland before fteam ; he had feen the coal fire on the Ifle of May, and he regaled me with tales of my own grandfather. Thus he was for me a mirror of things perifhed; it was only in his memory that I could fee the huge fhock of ffames of the May beacon ftream to leeward, and the watchers, as they fed the fire, lay hold unfcorched of

272 College Memories. 229 of the windward bars of the furnace ; it was only thus that I could fee my grandfather driving fwiftly in a gig along the feaboard road from Pittenweem to Crail, and for all his bufinefs hurry, drawing up to fpeak good-humouredly with thofe he met. And now, in his turn, Lindfay is gone alfo ; inhabits only the memories of other men, till thefe mall follow him ; and figures in my reminifcences as my grand father figured in his.. To-day, again, they have Profeffor Butcher, and I hear he has a prodigious deal of Greek ; and they have Profeffor Chryftal, who is a man filled with the mathematics. And doubtlefs there are fet-offs. But they cannot change the faft

273 College Memories. facl that Profeffor Blackie has retired, and that Profeffor Kelland is dead. No man's education is complete or truly liberal, who knew not Kelland. There were unutterable lefibns in the mere fight of that frail old clerical gentleman, lively as a boy, kind like a fairy godfather, and keeping perfeft order in his clafs by the fpell of that very kindnefs. I have heard him drift into reminifcences in clafs time, though not for long, and give us glimpfes of old-world life in out-of-the-way Englifh parifhes when he was young ; thus playing the fame part as Lindfay the part of the furviving memory, fignalling out of the dark backward and abyfm of time the images of perifhed

274 College Memories. 231 perifhed things. But it was a part that fcaree became him ; he fomehow lacked the means : for all his filver hair and worn face, he was not truly old ; and he had too much of the unreft and petulant fire of youth, and too much invincible innocence of mind, to play the veteran well. The time to meafure him beft, to tafte (in the old phrafe) his gracious nature, was when he received his clafs at home. What a pretty fimplicity would he then mow, trying to amufe us like children with toys ; and what an engaging nervoufnefs of manner, as fearing that his efforts might not fucceed! Truly he made us all feel like children, and like children embarrafled, but at the fame time and his gracious nature.

275 232 College Memories. time filled with fympathy for the confcientious, troubled elder-boy who was working fo hard to entertain us. A theorift has held the view that there is no feature in man fo tell-tale as his fpeftacles ; that the mouth may be comprefled and the brow fmoothed artificially, but the fheen of the barnacles is diagnoftic. And truly it muft have been thus with Kelland ; for as I ftill fancy I behold him frifking aftively about the platform, pointer in hand, that which I feem to fee moft clearly is the way his glafles glittered with affeftion. I never knew but one other man who had (if you will permit the phrafe) fo kind a fpeftacle ; and that was Doctor Appleton. But the light in his

276 College Memories. 233 lis cafe was tempered and paflive ; in Kelland's it danced, and changed, and flamed vivacioufly among the ftudents, like a perpetual challenge to goodwill. I cannot fay fo much about Profeflbr Blackie, for a good reafon. Kelland's clafs I attended, once even gained there a certificate of merit, the only diftinftion of my Univerfity career. But although I am the holder of a certificate of attendance in the Profeffor's own hand, I cannot remember to have been prefent in the Greek clafs above a dozen times. Profeffor Blackie was even kind enough to remark (more than once) while in the very aft of writing the docu ment above referred to, that he did not know my face. Indeed, Of the Emeritus Profeffor Blackie. Touching the au thor's at tendance at the Greek clafs.

277 College Memories. I denied myfelf many oppor tunities ; acting upon an ex tenfive and highly rational fyftem of truantry, which coft me a great deal of trouble to put in exercife perhaps as much as would have taught me Greek and fent me forth into the world and the profeffion of letters with the mereft fhadow of an education. But they fay it is always a good thing to have taken pains, and that fuccefs is its own reward, what ever be its nature ; fo that, perhaps, even upon this I mould plume myfelf, that no one ever played the truant with more deliberate care and none ever had more certificates for lefs education. One confequence, however, of my fyftem is that I have much lefs to fay of

278 College Memories. 235 of Profeffor Blackie than I had of Profeffor Kelland ; and as he is Hill alive, and will long, I hope, continue to be fo, it will not furprife you very much that I have no intention of faying it. Meanwhile, how many others have gone Jenkin, Hodgfon, and I knownot who befides ; and of that tide offtudents that ufed to throng the arch and blacken the quadrangle, how many are fcattered into the remoteft parts of the earth, and how many more have lain down befide their fathers in their ' refting-graves '! And again, how many of thefe laft have not found their way there, all too early, through the ftrefs of education! That was one thing, at leaft, from which my truantry protefted me. I am forry Of the many others who have gone. Tbeflrefe of educa tion.

279 236 College Memories. Sordid tragedies in Jtudent life. A moral for thefe ' College Memo ries ' Another figure recalled. forty indeed that I have no Greek, but I fhould be forrier ftill if I were dead ; nor do I know the name of that branch of knowledge which is worth acquiring at the price of a brain fever. There are many fordid tragedies in the life of the ftudent, above all if he be poor, or drunken, or both ; but nothing more moves a wife man's pity than the cafe of the lad who is in too much hurry to be learned. And fo, for the fake of a moral at the end, I will call up one more figure, and have done. A ftudent, ambitious of fuccefs by that hot, intemperate manner of ftudy that now grows fo common, read night and day for an examination. As he went on, the tafk became more

280

281

282 College Memories. more eafy to him, fleep was more eafily banifhed, his brain grew hot and clear and more capacious, the neceflary know ledge daily fuller and more orderly. It came to the eve of the trial and he watched all night in his high chamber, reviewing what he knew 'and already fecure of fuccefs. His window looked eaftward, and being (as I faid) high up, and the house itfelf ftanding on a hill, commanded a view over dwindling fuburbs to a country horizon. At laft my ftudent drew up his blind, and flill in quite a jocund humour, looked abroad. Day was breaking, the eaft was tinging with ftrange fires, the clouds break ing up for the coming of the fun; and at the fight, namelefs terror A fad ftory.

283 238 College Memories. terror feized upon his mind. He was fane, his fenfes were undifturbed ; he faw clearly, and knew what he was feeing, and knew that it was normal ; but he could neither bear to fee it nor find ftrength to look away, and fled in panic from his chamber into the enclofure of the ftreet. In the cool air and filence and among the fleeping houfes, his ftrength was renewed. Nothing troubled him but the memory of what had paffed and an abjeft fear of its return. Gallo canente, fpes redit, Aegris falus refiinditur, Lapfis fides revertitur, as they fang of old in Portugal in the Morning Office. But to him that good hour of cockcrow, and the changes of

284 College Memories. the dawn, had brought panic, and lafling doubt, and fuch terror as he ftill fhook to think of. He dared not return to his lodging ; he could not eat ; he fat down, he rofe up, he wandered ; the city woke about him with its cheerful buftle, the fun climbed overhead ; and ftill he grew but the more absorbed in the diftrefs of his recolleftion and the fear of his paft fear. At the appointed hour, he came to the door of the place of examination ; but when he was afked, he had forgotten his name. Seeing him fo difordered, they had not the heart to fend him away, but gave him a paper and admitted him, ftill namelefs, to the Hall. Vain kindnefs, vain efforts. He could only

285 240 College Memories. The mora applied. fit in a ftill growing horror, writing nothing, ignorant of all, his mind filled with a fingle memory of the breakup day and his own intolerable fear. And that fame night h; was tofling in a brain fever. People are afraid of war and wounds and dentifts, all wirh excellent reafon ; but thefe are not to be compared with fuch chaotic terrors of the mind as fell on this young man, and made him cover his eyes from the innocent morning. We all have by our bedfides the box of the Merchant Abudah, thank God, fecurely enough mut ; but when a young man facrifices fleep to labour, let him have a care, for he is play ing with the lock. ROBERT Louis STEVENSON.

286 y \ tj \ ' j - \ \